The Afterfall
by Baje Barra
Summary: Gwen and Merlin still have a kingdom to rule.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Merlin's not mine**

The Afterfall: Prologue

It didn't seem as though the chorus of Long Lives would die down any time soon, so eventually Gwen stood from the throne and bowed back. To Leon, Percival, Gaius, and the little remainder of the kingdom still with voices to call out for the Queen, she bowed back and walked, somehow down each step, somehow all the way down and out the throne hall. Long live the Queen. It was a rhythm to stride to. Long live the Queen. The King is dead. The rhythm is the same.

"Your majesty?"

Guinevere hadn't even noticed the rhythm stopped pulsing. She blinked and looked up—the voice belonged to a tentative, vaguely scared looking Percival. Gaius, tight-lipped and staring down, was behind him, along with the shut throne room door. How long had she been standing here? She supposed it didn't matter.

"Where is he?" she heard her voice say.

Percival cleared his throat. "He's downstairs, milad—majesty." Gwen spared him a glance and found she hadn't mistaken his expression. There was something definitely like fear in his eyes. "He said he'd wait in the hall outside Gaius's quarters."

"Gwen—" Gaius started.

"Thank you," she cut him off. Since meeting their stares did not seem like something her own eyes wanted to do, she swept away. Her shoes tapped the palace floor as she walked, click, click, click, click. The king is dead, long live the queen. Click click click click. Those stares she'd avoided burned at her back until she rounded the first corner.

Somehow the rhythm lasted her feet the entire way there, to the physician's home, to the tall, skinny man waiting, pale but not shaking, outside his door. The young man heard the pulse, heard the clicks. Guinevere wondered if she was deceiving herself when she saw his oversized ears move at the sound. He turned, and the Queen and Warlock stared at each other for a very long time.

Gwen's first thought was that Merlin looked awful.

"You look awful," she said.

His enormous and deadened blue eyes only blinked. "And you look stunning."

Guinevere shrugged in a way she hadn't since she married royalty. "They need me to."

Something like a spasm seemed to run through him. "What do you think they need of me?"

"Not the truth," Gwen answered. "Not yet. They aren't ready," she paused, shocked the breath she exhaled didn't shake, "But I am." His mouth tightened as he nodded too fast. "When I figured out who that old sorcerer on the mountaintop was, I stopped worrying about Arthur," she continued, trying not to falter at the jolt that ran through Merlin's eyes, "…I thought he would be safe, as he always has been, with you."

Every bone in his body shook, and his eyes filled with water, "I'm—I'm sorry, Guinevere."

It was the first pang of emotion, of anything at all, she felt since he returned with the news. _He never calls me that_.

"I'm sorry too, Emrys." Her voice sounded cold. She hated it.

Merlin made a strangled sound and let loose those tears. He dropped his head between his hunched shoulders and trembled, but he remained standing. Guinevere wanted to walk away from him. She also wanted to hold him until he stopped. So she stayed exactly where she was until he stopped, breathed deep, and managed to lift himself upright.

"In here?" he gestured to the physician's door. His voice sounded faint and he wouldn't meet her eyes, but it was enough. Gwen nodded and walked in as he opened the door for her.

"Where do you want to start?" she asked, frowning at the boy she met so long ago, the man she thought she knew so well.

Still not looking at her, Merlin pulled out a chair for his Queen. Guinevere bit her lip and shook her head, pulling out her own seat and slumping into it. Merlin blinked and sat down in the other. Waiting, she stared at him.

Suddenly, Merlin's eyes flashed gold. He held up a hand to her and sparks, yellow sparks, began to spring from his fingertips. Gwen gasped at the sight, and a few of the sparks pierced her skin and she felt a warmth and a snapping tingle, one that would have made her giggle on a normal day. The sparks died down, and she could only gape at the person in front of her. Magic up close…magic that was beautiful...magic from Merlin...

"I was born with it," he began quietly.

* * *

The horse making its way across the fields and through the lower town was dark and strong, huffing with exertion and drawing attention. A man on the roof of his modest house was hanging laundry when he glanced down and noticed the horse, along with the knight on it. He was dressed in chainmail and completely slumped over, bobbing up and down like a doll. Long hair hung over his face. The man on his roof squinted—he put his laundry aside, hurried down the steps of his house and grabbed a kitchen knife to be safe, in case it was a trick. The horse was almost at his own doorstep when he burst outside, and his mouth dropped at what he saw before him. The knight was unconscious and had been tied to the horse…

"Sir _Gwaine_?"

* * *

**Hey, guys. Wow. The show is over. I still can't believe it.**

**I loved the finale, I really did, but as always with Merlin, there are things I wanted to do and respond to. If I continue this, and if you guys want to continue reading it, here's a warning-I'm not bringing Arthur back. There might be a couple scenes with him (flashbacks, mysticalness and things) but I want to make this a story about how Camelot moves on, and tries to stay a great kingdom without him (A****nd sorry if it's hypocritical if I say that about Arthur and not about Gwaine, but...I couldn't do it. I can't write anything for Merlin without Gwaine in it. God, as if that finale wasn't sad enough already...after Elyan died, I was not okay with losing another knight).**

**Gwen and Merlin will be the main characters, but everyone's in the mix. Also, another warning-if you guys read exclusively hetero pairings or exclusively slash pairings, don't keep going with this story. I write everything depending on chemistry, and attraction has no guidelines, especially on a show like Merlin where every actor manages to convey so much with so little dialogue. The subtext in Merlin is endless and I want to capture that and remain true to it.**

**Sorry about the rant, but that attitude on this site has been bugging me lately. I'd love it if you reviewed, and I'll update this hopefully soon. Happy holidays, everybody :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: Merlin's not mine.**

**Thanks so much to all who reviewed! A lot of people are following this, I didn't expect that. Here's the second chapter.**

* * *

The Afterfall

Percival stormed out the palace door with Merlin, Leon, and the Queen following behind him as fast as they could run, until Percival stopped at a dead halt. Merlin crowded over the knight's shoulder to see it.

The farmer who had brought the news hadn't lied—there, looking barely alive, was Gwaine, tied to his black mare's saddle by the wrists and ankles. Percival heard Merlin's breath in quick, wondrous gasps behind him, and he himself felt like he could collapse, so he blinked over and over again to make sure the world was still upright.

"Get him off," Percival finally said. "Get him down from there," he hadn't heard his own voice sound like that since he looked Morgana in the eye.

The farmer leading the horse shook his head. "I tried," he said. "That rope's not natural."

"Gaius!" Leon called back into the palace while Guinevere stepped out from behind both Merlin and Percival. Her eyes looked sharp and narrow.

"What do you mean by that?" she asked. The farmer, who previously seemed calm about the whole situation, dropped his jaw at being directly addressed by the Queen.

"I—I mean, it won't be cut, milady," he stammered. "Look at it."

All three of them moved closer to the horse while Leon ran inside for the physician. Percival managed to stop staring at the pale but breathing face of Gwaine to glance down at the ropes tying him down, only to realize they weren't ropes at all.

Something clear and shimmering was knotted to him, something that could have been either water or mist if either water or mist could take solid shape on its own.

Percival had to blink again. "That's—"

"Magic," Guinevere breathed next to him, running a long finger over one of the shining coils. A trail of blue, purple, green, and yellow sparks followed the trace of her nail, but then the sparks vanished and the odd magical restraints wouldn't budge. "Thank you, sir," she said to the farmer, still frowning at the horse and its rider, "Thank you for returning our man to us."

The farmer seemed to understand he was dismissed and bowed low, "Your majesty," before walking dazedly away.

Merlin and Guinevere didn't look at each other, but Percival stared as she suddenly put her hand on the servant's back and moved Merlin closer to the horse, her own chin high. He nodded, and his jaw was set.

The expression made Percival wonder for the thousandth time what Merlin's story was, and how on earth the boy could talk to _dragons_ as if they were old friends.

He'd been too late. Arthur was dead by the time Percival got to the lake to warn them Morgana was on her way.

Merlin suddenly stood on his toes, took both Gwaine's bound wrists in his hands, and whispered something odd-sounding. A yellow ring passed through his once blue eyes and the magical coils snapped, gently dissolving into a burst of those same sparks.

Percival didn't stop his jaw from dropping. He'd seen this coming and figured _talking to dragons_ also meant _sorcerer_, but it was something else entirely to see _Merlin's_ eyes, of all eyes, turn gold.

A loud clank erupted behind them. Guinevere's hair whipped against Percival's armor as they all swung to face the noise. Leon, on the highest palace step with Gaius, had dropped his sword on the ground. His eyes bulged at the floating sparks, his mouth moved soundlessly and Merlin stood frozen in his stare. Gaius looked on behind Leon, tensed as if prepared for anything from the knight, but Merlin was the first to break the pause by walking to the side of the horse.

"_Ofbinde_," he said, a little louder this time, grasping the coil around Gwaine's left ankle and stirrup. The sparks and gold eyes made another appearance as this knot broke, and when Merlin turned his glance toward Percival, the knight knew he was being given an order. With both hands, he steadied Gwaine, whose head was lolling back and forth with the release. Merlin walked around, took hold of the last restraint, and repeated his spell. Merlin. Doing spells.

Percival lifted Gwaine with a grunt and tried not to think about it.

Gaius travelled down the steps and prepared to examine his patient and all the while, Leon gaped at Merlin.

Guinevere ran up to Gaius. "Is he alright?" she asked, sounding almost desperate. Percival couldn't remember ever hearing her like that before. "Will he be alright?"

Gaius put his fingers to Gwaine's wrist. "His pulse is normal," Gaius said slowly, "…but his color is not. We'll have to get him to my chambers, but so far he's been lucky."

Percival looked down at the friend in his arms and realized his own shoulders were shaking. "He—he was dead," his voice escaped him as though he were choking. Something like salt was caught in his throat. "Gaius, milady, I swear he was dead—" and cold. More than anything, Percival remembered the cold of Gwaine's skin as he held his friend's fading face, and the white of his closing eyelids…the knight in his arms now was breathing…

"He'll live," they all snapped their attention to Merlin. "He will. We need him, so he will."

Percival blinked again and stared around at everyone there. The Queen's hands clenched into fists and she nodded, looking as though she was suddenly back on the battlefield. Gaius inhaled deeply and the permanent arch in his eyebrow sharpened, if possible, even more. Leon closed his mouth and looked somehow like a lost boy before finally looking away from Merlin and to Gwaine.

They needed Gwaine.

Just like that, no one had anything else to say.

Merlin turned and headed for the physician's chamber. Percival and Gaius followed him.

* * *

_"In that first year alone, you saved my life more times than I can count, Merlin. You didn't think I'd want to know? You didn't think I'd want the _chance_ to say _thank you_?"_

What hurt more than he could have possibly imagined was Gwen's voice. It was softer and deadlier than he'd ever heard it, asking him questions he had no good answer for. Now Gwaine, who would have had the exact same questions, was almost dead on the mattress in front of him.

In that moment, Merlin realized why he only told Arthur the truth while he was dying. This part, everything to come after the truth, was too hard.

_"…the chance to say thank you?"_

It was a chance only Arthur got.

_Arthur_…

"…Merlin?"

Merlin inhaled and lifted his head from his knees too quickly, but he hardly dared believe his ears, "—Gwaine?"

A familiar groan sounded out from the figure on the bed in response.

Merlin leapt to his feet. It took all his restraint not to strangle Gwaine in a hug right then and there. "You're alive," and it was definitely something in between a whisper and a squeal that escaped his mouth, but he didn't care.

"I shouldn't be," said Gwaine's voice from beneath the hair hanging over his face. "Arthur isn't."

The tears making Merlin's eyes go glassy again stilled, and he shook his head. "Turn over, I can't see you," he said slowly.

For a moment, Gwaine's body didn't move. "Do you know why you couldn't make it to Camlann?"

Merlin winced. "Not now, Gwaine—"

"It was because I told Eira we were going there. Do you know why Morgana knew she would find you and Arthur in Avalon?"

"Stop it," Merlin said through gritted teeth.

Finally Gwaine rotated onto his back. "Because I told her where you both were."

Merlin forgot everything for a moment and stared. Gwaine looked completely unharmed. He looked like his old self. He looked beautiful.

"I don't have a scratch on me," he whispered, confirming Merlin's shock, "…and Arthur is gone. _You_ were almost gone."

Merlin wasn't sure how long he stood there silent. He didn't remember thinking the words before he said them.

"…Maybe whoever saved you knew could handle that."

Gwaine raised an eyebrow and scoffed, a hopeless, hollow sound. "Handle what? How do you make amends for something like that, Merlin?"

"If you think I know the answer to that, you have no idea how much _I_ have to make amends for," Merlin heard his own voice come out harsh, almost in a growl. "Don't you dare think you're the only one who deserves blame for all this, Gwaine. Not when I need you."

Gwaine's entire frame tensed and said nothing for a while. Merlin set his jaw and looked down. He had a feeling they would all be spending a lot of time in silence for a while. Arthur was loud enough for all of them.

"I never could say no to you for anything, could I?" Gwaine finally said. Merlin risked a glance at him—the knight's jaw was tight and his eyes were grim, but there was a wry twitch upward in his mouth, one that, Merlin hoped, could in time become his old smile.

And he'd worry about the implications of that remark later. "So, who _did_ save you?" Merlin asked, both because he was curious and because he needed to change the subject.

"Oh, her," Gwaine trailed off, twisting his jaw and looking strange. "I've met her before."

Merlin frowned. "Um, who was it?"

Gwaine locked eyes with Merlin, who couldn't suppress an odd shiver. "You know her pretty well, I think," he said in a dry voice. "She lives in a lake."

* * *

**I'm gonna make lots of references to my other stories in this piece. You don't have to read them if you don't want to, I'll make things clear here, but if you wanna know more about that last part you can go to chapter four of Sometimes I Dream about You.**

**Shameless self-advertising over. Please review :D**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: Merlin's not mine.**

**Thanks for all who reviewed! This is the last chapter of what I call of pure "finale recovery." After this I'm going to get more into current plot, so if it feels a little slow, I promise it'll pick up soon. By the way you guys, everything I write is unbeta-ed so sorry about spelling and grammar issues! Here 'tis.**

* * *

The Afterfall

"My lady—"

By this point, Guinevere had learned how not to sigh or groan aloud whenever a subject addressed and all she wanted was to sleep. She stopped walking and closed her eyes for a moment instead. "Leon."

His voice sounded strained and urgent. "M—May I speak with you?"

Guinevere forced her eyes open and she whirled around to face him, only to find she had never seen him look more frazzled, confused, terrified, and…actually, she wasn't sure she'd _ever_ seen so much emotion from Leon, not since he was a boy and Elyan stole his favorite doll horse. "Go right ahead," she replied, trying not to stare at his curls, normally so neat and clean, now almost standing on end.

"Somewhere else, my lady—" his eyes darted around him and his hand was hovering over his sword. Gwen realized she couldn't blame him for the fear, but it looked ridiculous on him. Without a word, she headed for the corridor outside her chamber. Leon followed her, but looked stunned when she stopped and didn't open the door.

"Will this do, Leon?" she asked tonelessly.

"I—" he stuttered, "…my lady, he's a _sorcerer_."

"I know, Leon."

"How long?" seemed to be the only question he could get out.

Gwen shrugged, feeling un-queenly and not particularly minding. "He won us Camlann, that's when I learned of it."

Leon blinked. "The old man on the mountain—"

"Is Merlin," Gwen interrupted, mind suddenly flashing back to the past, to every other moment she'd ever seen that old man before in her life. _Pretended to enchant me. Killed Uther. _"Has always been Merlin," she trailed off. _Merlin, _what_ have you been _doing_ all this time?_

"What…" Leon stopped and inhaled before he spoke again, and Gwen caught sight of his hand shaking, "—what are we to do with him?"

She locked her gaze to his and watched him squirm. "If you have any suggestions, Sir Leon, I'm perfectly open to them."

All he did was gape at her, wordless.

Guinevere nodded. "I see," she said slowly. "Well, until a suitable answer can be thought up, let alone agreed on, there is nothing more to be discussed tonight. Sleep well, Sir Leon."

"The law is the law, my lady," he finally said before she could turn on her heel.

"Yes, well," Gwen said to the floor, unable to look back up at him without feeling the urge to scream, "—the law was Arthur's law, wasn't it?" she asked before she could stop herself.

Silence for a moment. _So many silences_. "It was," he finally said.

"And I," she heard how her own voice shook, "—am not him," and she almost choked on that last word.

"My lady, I…" Guinevere bit the inside of her mouth and forced herself to look back up at Leon, meeting his eyes, "I never thought you should be."

She blinked at what she saw. Leon had always been a friend to her, but she remembered how strong the pull of duty grew on him, and how it made him like iron—difficult to bend any other way. Now, though…his eyes were wide and his chin was unsure as a child's. A flush spread across his face.

Without warning, another memory, this one splintered and dark, passed through her mind. _Morgana_.

It was a sensation Gwen was familiar with by now. Morgana's spell left her with amnesia for the first few days, but slowly all had been returning in sharp, stinging fragments. Now she saw glimpses of Leon before her, telling her she could rule, telling her he'd support her if Arthur were to fall. He believed she could do this. His eyes when he said that looked so certain and full…

The image went black in her mind and Guinevere blinked once again. "I need to sleep," she breathed, suddenly feeling as though she could collapse. "Leon, I need time. Will—" she began before she realized she had no right to ask him for anything.

Leon, though, nodded as if she had. "Yes, my lady." He hesitated before speaking again. "Shall I post guards outside his door?"

"Hah," the shout escaped her throat before she could stop it. Leon looked quite affronted, which only made Guinevere want to laugh more. "Whatever _for_?"

Leon, for the first time, looked angry. "He's dangerous, Gwen."

She felt oddly better now that he dropped the 'my lady's. "He always has been," Guinevere responded, feeling a twist tug her lips. "Do as you will. Don't expect it to make a difference."

* * *

"How have you met her before?" Merlin's voice was intent and his perfect eyes were almost bulging out from his head. They were so blue, such a dark blue…Gwaine tried not to get too distracted.

He looked down and shrugged. "Remember that time I wandered off while we were stopped at that pub halfway to Camelot?"

Merlin raised an eyebrow. "The time you got so drunk you didn't find your way back to the inn until the next morning?"

"Well, maybe we shouldn't act like that's an incident specific to _one_ time," Gwaine couldn't resist, and it was worth it to see Merlin's eyes spark and something almost like a grin pass over his ghost-pale face, "…but this was when I wound up falling asleep by a lake." He stopped himself from saying _Not just any lake, it was the most gorgeous place I ever saw_. Merlin already knew that.

"And you saw her?" Merlin whispered, leaning forward, with still absurdly wide eyes. "You saw Freya?"

He twitched away from that stare again. The closest expression Gwaine had ever seen on Merlin was the one he wore when he looked at Arthur. And, as if Gwaine were not disturbed enough by this, there was also the fact that Arthur was dead. "I saw Freya," he confirmed. Thinking about Arthur still hurt too much, even _without_ thinking about Merlin.

"What did she tell you then?" Merlin pressed on.

_She told that you were special and she told me that Arthur killed her_. "She told me you couldn't face Morgana alone," Gwaine said. "She told me to look out for you and protect you. Which was bloody unnecessary, really, I would have done those things anyway."

Merlin tensed and darted his eyes to the side. Gwaine hadn't meant to say that last part. "And this time?" Merlin asked softly. "What did she say when she saved you?"

Gwaine paused the tiniest moment before he answered. "What do fairy ex-lovers usually say when they save a knight?" he asked, smiling his old rake smile as best he could. _Camelot needs me. Merlin, you need me_. "She said I still have more to do here."

Suddenly, the door burst open and Merlin leapt from his seat. The sound seemed to snap something inside of him, because all his returning color drained from his face within a second. Gwaine frowned at it—the ones at the door were just Percival and Leon, looking no taller than they usually did, but Merlin was scared. He was frozen.

"You're awake," Percival finally said to him, smiling wide.

He escaped Morgana. Seeing that made Gwaine smile back and feel a bit lighter. "Believe it or not, I noticed that," he replied quickly. Banter. Ahh, he missed the banter. It had stopped a week before Camlann.

"We're glad, Gwaine," Leon interrupted with a warm grin before the banter could erupt into full-scale.

Gwaine nodded. "So am I," he said, but that was when he realized something seemed off. Why hadn't they tackled him yet? Why were they still standing in the doorway? Then he saw it—saw Leon's eyes dart to Merlin who swallowed and looked away.

"I'll be back later, Gwaine," he said, almost in a whisper and barely glancing at him. Gwaine didn't even have time to say goodbye before Merlin passed Percival and Leon, both of whom almost jumped out of his way, and shut the door behind him.

"What the hell was that?" Gwaine raised his brows at his friends as they walked towards him. They could tackle him and tell him how glad they were that he wasn't dead after they explained themselves.

Leon's mouth was clenched and he didn't speak. Percival, looking extremely out of his depth, cleared his throat. "Err, well. You know that old sorcerer that probably killed Uther and saved us at Camlann?"

"…Yes?"

"Well. Um. Merlin's that sorcerer."

"…Oh," Gwaine blinked twice, then shrugged. "That explains a few things."

He didn't know a name for the look on Leon's face.

* * *

**Hey guys. Um, so I've got 31 followers for this story, and I'm starting to feel a little stalked. If you could review and say why you like this (or why you don't like it but are reading it anyway), that would make me suuuuper happy :D**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: Merlin's not mine.**

**Wow, you guys...thank you so much for reviewing, I don't think I've ever gotten that many for one chapter before.**

**I'm a little hesitant about this chapter-it was hard to write. I'm hoping everything will get a little easier once I stretch them out from the palace. Anyway, unbeta-ed as usual, and I promise to stop making this so slow and depressing...they've just got so much to wade through. Let me know if it feels like I'm laying it on too thick.**

* * *

The Afterfall

Merlin needed something to do. The only thing he could think of to occupy himself, though, was to wander around the castle. He wasn't even sure what he was looking for, but it felt as though there was something specific, or someone, he needed to find.

"Gwen," he eventually called out, softly though, almost to himself. Gwen. He needed to find Gwen. They were interrupted before by the arrival of Gwaine on the horse, and she said she still wanted to know everything.

He didn't particularly want to continue the conversation but he had to find her.

Arthur was gone.

Merlin needed _some_one's royal orders to obey.

"My lady," he raised his voice a little this time as he turned the corner. Sometimes, when he looked at Gwen, he still couldn't believe she was the girl who'd trip over every word she spoke all those years ago—then he'd remember how she could raise her chin and darken her eyes with a stern stare even then. She always had a Queen in her. _She was worthy of him. I wasn't_.

His vision went black for a moment, but he kept walking until it cleared.

When he finally made it to Arthur's chambers, he was shocked he managed to get the door open without his hands shaking. The room was exactly as he left it, as though Gwen hadn't used it at all. Dust was beginning to settle on the wardrobe. _Must clean that_, Merlin thought absently, _must clean that or he'll yell at me_. The thought finally registered and he knew he had to get out of there.

"Gwen!" this time he shouted, almost sprinting out the door and down the next hallway. Where would she go?

"Merlin," the call stopped him in his tracks. He whirled around to see Gaius heading towards him.

It was the understanding look on the old man's face that broke him. The weight of purpose dropped from his shoulders and he felt too light to be standing without it. When Gaius held out his arms, Merlin fell into them without question and allowed himself to shiver like a broken wing.

"I told you I'd have your favorite supper waiting for you," Gaius said quietly.

Merlin's tears choked his laugh. "And do you?"

"It's ready when you ask for it."

He shut his eyes and his mouth tight, hoping it would help him stop shaking. "What do I do now?" he whispered.

"You accept it," Gaius said, putting his steady hands on Merlin's shoulders to make him meet his eyes, and pronouncing each word slowly. "Accept everything you receive these next few days, and maybe even these next few weeks. Not all of it will be pleasant, I assure you, but you need to."

Merlin tried to breathe out evenly. "They might hate me," he leaned against the wall and slid down to the floor, "They have the right to."

Gaius's jaw was stern and unforgiving. "Whether or not they have _the right_ to is not up for determination."

"_I didn't save him_, Gaius," every muscle in Merlin's body clenched as those words left him. "Everything I kept from them, every decision I left them out of? It was all to protect Arthur. I failed. I failed and there's no way I can answer for all I've done now, not now that he's gone—" and suddenly, just as his volume was rising and voice breaking, Gaius grabbed Merlin's shoulder with such a strength that he stopped. The old man ripped Merlin from the ground and onto his feet.

"Don't you ever think you're nothing without him, boy," Gaius's voice was quiet, but it hit Merlin with the force of a roar. He couldn't remember the last time the old man called him "boy," and for a moment he was shocked out of words.

"I don't think I'm nothing without him," he finally stammered out. "I'm still someone—it's just someone I don't know."

* * *

Gwen woke up. She hadn't expected she'd sleep so well, let alone for three whole hours. It was pitch black in the room even though she knew it was still early enough to be light outside—when she first started using this chamber, she made sure it was draped with the thickest curtains money could buy. It was the room she slept in originally while she was taking care of Uther, and later whenever Arthur was gone off somewhere dangerous. In both situations, staying in Arthur's room felt wrong, and she required more assistance sleeping. Those curtains blocked out all sun, star, and moonlight—they worked wonders.

With dim reluctance, she lifted herself off the bed. She hadn't even bothered covering herself with the blankets. All she had done before losing consciousness, in fact, was to take off her shoes. Since her dress was long enough to hide her feet, the idea of putting those shoes back on didn't even enter her head.

Guinevere walked soundlessly out of the black room, trying not to squint as the sun from the hallway windows flooded her vision. She couldn't help but wonder if she was losing her mind because being barefoot made her feel oddly giddy. The strange desire to skip her entire way down the hall was gripping her strongly.

Without deciding to, she did.

It was as if the cold floor brought her feet to life, but Gwen couldn't stop skipping, and the rustle of her heavy gown only provided her with background music. Something escaped her mouth—was that a laugh? No, not quite a laugh, but something similar, some high breath of noise that did not belong to someone whose husband just died.

_Maybe I _am_ losing my mind_, she thought. Her feet landed one last time on the floor, just as she heard voices around the next corner. She stopped, frowned, and gathered her skirts up off the floor with a fist.

The first thing Gwen heard clearly was "Gwaine," and she tiptoed nearer.

"How is he?" The voice was Gaius's.

"He looks healthy as the day I met him," Merlin, sounding wry and old. Gwen's jaw twitched.

"Does he know how he survived?" that was Gaius's clinically bewildered voice. Gwen knew it well.

There was a silence for a moment, but then Merlin spoke in a harsh whisper. "Freya saved him."

Gwen frowned, wondering if she heard correctly. "Freya?" Gaius asked, sounding shocked.

"No, she's appeared to me before, Gaius. You remember? The water from the lake of Avalon lead me to her, and she lead me to the sword," Merlin seemed urgent now.

"And she saved Gwaine?" Tone: Incredulous. Gwen was having a difficult time understanding the words themselves, so diagnosing the more subtle components of conversation was the only method of comprehension left to her.

"I need to find her, Gaius," Tone: Urgent. "Well, not _find_ her, I know where she is, but I have to see her. If she knew enough to save Gwaine, something's wrong and she'll know what it is."

"Merlin," a pause, "—that's where you laid Arthur to rest."

That hollowness Gwen was starting to recognize gripped her, so she made herself focus on the conversation instead. There was a longer pause before Merlin answered "Yes."

"Are you sure you want to go back there?" _Where? Go back where, Merlin?_

"I'll go to the opposite side. The shore where I set Freya from in the first place, her and Lancelot…that might be a little easier to face." _Shore. So a sea? Or a lake_. Gwen had to strain her ears to catch the argumentative sigh that came from Gaius, but Merlin interrupted it. "I have to talk to her, Gaius, I have to figure out what she meant and why she saved him."

And why she didn't save Arthur.

Merlin didn't say that, but Gwen heard it in his voice anyway, the one doubt that hung above all the others on the air.

"Gwaine's good luck was indeed strange," and here, Gaius hesitated, as Guinevere hadn't heard him do since he defended Merlin before Camlann, "—have you wondered whether Morgana might not have anything to do with his survival?"

The hollowness inside Gwen was replaced by a sharp jolt at Morgana's name, followed quickly by confusion, confusion that Merlin apparently shared. "What do you mean?"

"Nothing," Gaius said after the tiniest of pauses.

"Are you…talking about your time with Gwaine and Elyan in her cell?"

"Yes, well. She favored Gwaine, but it was probably no more than that."

"Freya will know," Merlin sounded different now, as if his voice were somehow darkened with age and smoke. Gwen almost didn't recognize it. "Apparently she's spoken to him before."

"How on earth—?"

"I've got to go, Gaius." There were his footsteps already, thankfully headed away from Guinevere's hiding place.

"Merlin!" That sharp reprimand Gwen had heard more times than she could count echoed through the hall, and the footsteps stopped. "Be back in time for your favorite supper."

One more pause, and then those footsteps began again.

Gwen bit her lip, trying to stop the splintered memories from stabbing at her. She stood still and waited until after Gaius began the trek back to his quarters—thankfully, he didn't turn toward her hiding place—before she took a shortcut through a different set of halls.

Although the door to Merlin's room was closed, Guinevere could hear voices coming through. For a moment, it was tempting to lean an ear in—people censored themselves far more around a queen than they had around a maidservant—but she felt as though she'd eavesdropped enough for one day. Instead, she knocked.

The door opened to reveal a smiling Percival. "Majesty," he bowed his head. Guinevere tried not to blame him for allowing his smile to falter at the sight of the widowed queen.

Leon, too, looked serious, as he stood to greet her and bowed from the waist. Only Gwaine, sitting on the bed, kept grinning as he held out his arms. "It's good to see you, my lady," he sounded so sincere, tired, and warm, Guinevere didn't hesitate running to embrace him.

"I'm glad you're back," she whispered, shocked by how much she meant it, shocked to feel tears on her own cheeks.

Gwaine's strong arms tightened their grasp around her. "I'm so sorry, Gwen," his voice shook.

Gwen inhaled all the air her lungs could hold. Reluctantly, she pulled away from Gwaine and wiped her eyes on her sleeve. "We all are." The warmth of his arms left her and she felt cold, but in a quickened, alive sort of way, as her eyes roamed to meet every other set in the room. "Each of us has more than enough to apologize for, and more than enough blame to accept. I do, I have, and now I am done." _Don't think of Arthur. Don't break, don't think of Arthur._

Gwaine's jaw was set, determined and proud. Percival looked entranced, though worry flickered through his face. Leon, Guinevere noted, still held still, his eyes full of conflicted ferocity. When he spoke to her in the hall only a few hours ago, seeing that expression exhausted her. Now, Gwen only felt her back straighten under his stare.

"I would appreciate it," she continued, more quietly this time, "…if all of you could do the same."

It was Leon she said this to, and it was Leon who bowed his head in response. "Yes, your majesty."

Gwen couldn't make out his tone, but it would have to do for now. She opened her mouth to speak next to Gwaine, to ask him how on earth he survived, when she glanced out the window and stopped. Her jaw hung open and she felt her own eyes widen until they no longer could—it was as if her ears were suddenly deaf to all the eruption of noise. She barely registered Gwaine's shout of disbelief as he turned his head and she didn't remember sprinting in front of Percival and Leon, who were crying out for guards and had just drawn their swords.

She tilted her head to one side at the thing, clawing pitifully at the glass out the window. "Aithusa?"

* * *

**I hope this is staying interesting for you guys. Review and tell me what you think :)**


	5. Chapter 5

**January 26th: I edited this a tiny bit, a couple spelling errors were really bothering me.**

**Disclaimer: Merlin's not mine.**

**Again, you guys, you seriously _seriously_ rock. Thank you so much for reviewingggggggggg! I don't think I could have asked for a better set of readers-all of you comment on different things and have suggestions for different parts of this, so honestly thanks. Feedback helps direct my focus a lot because there's so much I want to cover in this story.**

**I hope you guys like this chapter. Well, maybe not _like_ it, because I kept depressing myself while I was writing it, but I hope you think it works. Updates might be coming a little slower from now on, I'm back in school and back to my job and just back to my life in general. But, anyway, tell me what you think.**

* * *

The Afterfall

Upon returning to his chambers, Gaius was greeted by the sounds of loud commotion behind Merlin's door.

"Leave her alone!" came Gwen's resounding command.

"It's a _her_?" said a voice so incredulous it could only be Gwaine's.

Apparently she ignored him, because the next thing Gaius's old ears could glean was a window being forced open and Gwen's voice getting softer as she said "It's alright, Aithusa, they won't hurt you."

One of the knights then said, "Exactly why not?" and Gaius closed his eyes and turned around.

_I'm getting too old for this_, he thought as he shut the door behind him. This was one mess he did not want to be involved in.

* * *

Three things registered in Leon's brain: that Gwen was holding him back from killing a dragon, that the dragon had a name, and that _Gwen_ _knew_ the name.

"Exactly why not?" Percival and Gwaine's gazes shot to him and Leon realized he said those words out loud. He also realized his fist was so tightly clenched around his sword handle that his hand was in pain. Gwen was at the windowsill, stroking the beast's head while it hovered outside. It was shriveled and white and hideous and she was so beautiful—the contrast made Leon feel almost sick.

"Because she's not dangerous without Morgana," Gwen said, still fixed on the moaning thing, flapping its skeletal wings against the sky.

Percival voiced Leon's next thought. "How do you know that?" instead of sounding angry, he just sounded amazed.

Gwen's brows were raised as she turned away from the beast just for a moment. "You never honestly thought I'd lock Merlin up for poisoning Arthur even before I knew he was a sorcerer, did you?" For a moment, Leon had no idea what she was talking about. "I was Morgana's for weeks after the dark tower, under an enchantment of hers the whole time. I got to know Aithusa well enough."

"You…" was all Leon could stutter out. He remembered that night, how hard she cried, how awful it was to watch...he remembered realizing how much he trusted her…

When the next exhausted words out Gwen's mouth were "Yes, well, none of you were all that difficult to fool," Leon felt as though he'd been slapped. "Except Merlin, that is," she continued dryly, almost to herself, "—although I suppose he would be better at spotting an actor than most."

"Don't say that about him," Gwaine said, something glinting in his eye.

The stare she leveled back at him was so inscrutable it might have been blank. "We don't know all he's hid, Gwaine," and her voice was soft. "It could be anything."

_He's been here so long, he was closer to Arthur than I was, than she was, he's got it in him to kill all of us_—"How could you let him walk without a leash, then?" Leon didn't stop himself from asking it, but he hadn't realized how he spat the question out until he saw the way they looked at him.

"If you're volunteering to be the one who holds it, be my guest," Gwen replied tonelessly—Gwaine, on the other, was smiling so ruthlessly he could have been ready to attack.

"I'd like to see you even _try_ chaining Merlin to a post, Leon," he drawled. "If he took out half Morgana's blokes in the blink of an eye like that, I'll bet he's even more lethal up close."

"Exactly," Leon knew how frantic he sounded, but it took all his effort not to roar instead, "—He's _lethal!_ Why are we pretending he isn't? He's a sorcerer and he just lost _Arthur_, why are we pretending he'll be in control of himself?"

"Why are we pretending _we_ are in control of _our_selves?" For the first time, Gwen's voice lifted into something dangerously close to a shriek. "He's not the only one who lost Arthur!"

And Arthur's face flashed through Leon's mind. He felt his mouth open and his body slackened as the thought of the golden king, his friend, dead, made the image go black. It faded to Guinevere in front of him, her eyes red and her frame tightened as if her muscles were being pulled in every different direction by forces she was barely strong enough to hold off. _She's right_. _Arthur is_…the unfinished thought was enough, even though Leon hadn't cried in years.

"We all lost him," Guinevere finished. Her voice was hollow, and Leon realized for the thousandth time how beautiful she was. "We learned he was dead this morning. Merlin can wait."

"…You were enchanted during Elyan's funeral?" Percival's voice broke suddenly through the room.

Leon felt all his hurt, anger, and confusion drop away at that.

Gwen's face blanched and it took her a few moments of staring at Percival before she said, "Yes."

Percival looked nothing less than ripped apart. Leon had to turn away from him, only to catch sight of Gwaine clenching his blankets in his fists with something indescribable in his eyes.

"I'm glad Merlin killed her." Percival finally said. Leon tried not to be abruptly scared of the enormous knight, but Percival rarely sounded as dangerous as he looked.

Gwen blinked and Gwaine's eyes shot open. "She's dead?" Gwen asked, simultaneously with Gwaine's "Merlin killed her?"

Merlin could kill Morgana. _We've been trying to for years_ and Merlin was the one who killed her. _Remember_, Leon told himself, _Merlin can wait, she was right, this can wait_…

The hideous white dragon under Gwen's hand let loose a horribly pathetic cry.

At that moment, Leon couldn't have spoken if he tried.

Percival nodded, eyes almost black, eerily focused on the beast. "I stepped over her corpse trying to get to Arthur. That's when I saw Merlin talking to the dragon."

"This dragon?" Gwen gestured the white thing incredulously.

"No, my lady. The other one."

When something that could have been an incredulous snort of laughter emerged from Gwaine, all of them ignored it.

Gwen turned back to the unwelcomed visitor out the window. "Gwaine?"

He sobered. "My lady?"

"You're well enough to walk?"

"I'm well enough to dance."

"Would you come with me and help me show Aithusa to the stables?"

"Of course, your majesty."

"Thank you. Put a shirt on first."

His grin had a pale hint of his old roguishness that could, even now, make Leon equal parts amused and irritated. "If you truly insist."

Gwen nodded and walked out the room without a second glance at any of them. While Gwaine tugged his shirt over his head, Leon couldn't stop his hands from shaking. "Percival?" he finally asked.

"Hm?"

"Was this other dragon the ancient looking and sort of gold-colored one?"

Percival frowned. "Yes, isn't that the only other one still alive?"

Gwaine's eyes were narrowed as he walked closer. "Leon?"

But Leon was already out the door. He needed to find Merlin and demand to know how that dragon, the one that killed so many of his friends, was still alive.

* * *

The lake's one shore was easier to get to than the other. Actually, the lake of Avalon might as well have been a small ocean. The place Merlin set Freya and Lancelot from was the smallest mouth of it—from there it widened and stretched past a few dense forests on one of the manmade bridges. That side was harder to get to, and that was where Merlin set Arthur.

_No need to go back there today_, he hummed to himself along the way as if it were an encouraging journey song, _no need to go back there today_…

The trip didn't take very long. Had Merlin not been so worn, he would have felt that familiar guilt for not visiting in a while—ever since Freya died, he'd been coming here and talking to the water a few times a month, and when Lancelot died, he came even more. When Mordred was knighted, however, Merlin stopped leaving the castle so frequently.

He was protecting Arthur.

_Lot of good that did you_…

Merlin shook his head desperately, trying to rid his spine of that shivering voice curling up to his ear, the one that managed to sound like Kilgarrah, Morgana, and himself all at once.

The trees cleared around him and he saw the finest layer of mist hanging in spite of the clear day over the lake. Merlin breathed deeply, though unsteadily, in. He knew then he should have come here months ago.

"Freya," he called out softly as he sat himself on the shore. "I know it's hard for you to answer…but if you can? Please, I—" he stopped, "…I just need you," it was a pathetic finish, and he had a feeling it would be in vain.

This feeling hung in his chest until the suddenly stirred. He looked up and before he could blink, something rose through the surface—a girl, with a sweet pale face and long, dark hair thrown over her shoulders, glossy from wetness. When she opened her eyes, drops fell from her lashes and she smiled.

Merlin could hardly believe it. "You're—how are you…?"

Her eyes warmed as he trailed off and gaped at her. "It's good to see you, Merlin," Freya said. Hearing her voice shot more sparks through Merlin than he had felt since…well, since the last time he saw this lake.

"And it's good to see you," he said, completely without guile as he stared at her. His questions could wait—he hadn't seen her in so long and she looked as young and beautiful as the day he said he'd run away with her. All that was different in Freya now was her eyes. They were older, a deeper brown, and seemed to shine brighter with the water he knew was now a part of her.

When it seemed as though he'd been gazing at her for minutes, she laughed. "I missed you, too."

Merlin felt himself almost grin. "How are you…" he gestured to her very seemingly alive body.

Freya looked down at herself, extended one of her wet arms and flexed her fingers. "I'm still not sure, to be honest," she said. "I have a few ideas though…that's not why you've come here, though."

Merlin twitched involuntarily. "No," he admitted, looking down, feeling himself darken again. "I had to know about Gwaine."

Her eyes sparkled. "He made it back safely, then?" she sounded glad and a little relieved.

The warmth in Merlin's chest at the thought of Gwaine was fighting to take over the hollow, the hollow left by the thought of a golden prince, a shining king, his best friend. "He did," without meaning to, he placed the emphasis on "he." Freya's face changed.

"Merlin…There was no way I could have saved Arthur."

"Why not?" he tried not to snap, tried not to sound angry, tried not to sound like a broken child…

"You won't like it."

He wasn't surprised, but his throat felt suddenly constricted anyway. "I need to know."

She held his gaze in a way that denied him the right to look away. "I could save Gwaine because, first, when your friend Percival thought he was dead, he was actually just stilled."

"What?"

"Morgana," Freya said, as though this were the simplest of answers. "She left Gwaine with a Nathair still inside him. It blocked his lungs, and a minute more without air would have been enough to kill him."

Merlin blinked, trying to process this information.

"I could also Gwaine," Freya continued when he said nothing, keeping her eyes down this time "…because, unlike Arthur, I knew how to find him."

Merlin's eyebrows shot up. "Why would you—"

Freya interrupted him, "Merlin," she seemed close to nervous for the first time, "Did Gwaine tell you he's met me before?"

"He did," said Merlin stoically.

"Don't look at me like that, Merlin," her eyes darkened. "You wouldn't tell any of them how much you needed help, so I tried to tell them for you. I called out to Gwaine once in a dream and he responded. From then on, I could see him. I could track him from this lake no matter where he was. I could watch over him watching over you."

For a moment, Merlin felt removed from his own life. He never suspected…well, he knew Gwaine cared about him, but to accept Freya…to trust a magic girl from a dream for Merlin's sake…_all this time, I assumed the only secrets in the castle were the ones I was keeping_.

"I tried—" she halted, then began again, "I tried calling out to Arthur in his dreams too. Twice." Her voice was quiet now, as if she knew how hearing that name would cause Merlin's soul to sink from his skin, as if she wanted him to hear as little of this as possible… "He wouldn't listen, Merlin. He could tell it was magic and didn't trust me, he refused to answer."

Merlin met her gorgeous eyes for just one moment before turning away from them, "No," he said through clenched teeth. _  
_

"After that, he was guarded from me," she went on. "I couldn't find him, I couldn't save him," he couldn't look away from her any longer—he met her eyes and they were too wide, frank, and sorry for him to handle, "I tried," Freya finished softly. "I love you, so I tried."

_I wish I was a ghost like her. I wish I could be so calm, then_ _this wouldn't hurt so much._

_I don't want to know it was his fault, too._

"Thank you for saving Gwaine," was all Merlin could say. Where the words came from, he didn't care. He should have been too empty to have any left.

"Merlin." He blinked. He hadn't noticed the scenery moving in front of him. He didn't remember turning around and walking away.

"What?" he called back.

"You can't leave now," Freya's voice sounded louder.

"Why not?"

"You know Kilgarrah's dying."

Dimly, Merlin recognized the peculiarity of this statement. Then again, "Everyone I know seems to be doing that." He was still looking absently at the ground, still with his back to her.

"Merlin," she sounded taut now, pulled by anger and worry, ready for something bad. He didn't have it in him to wonder what. "Aithusa's in danger."

That was so bizarre Merlin finally turned his head to raise a dull eyebrow at her. "Why?"

"Everything's about to change, you'll feel it soon," there was an intensity in Freya's face he had never seen before. She learned so much in that lake. _I wonder if he will too_. "Arthur's death started something, Merlin," she spoke fast now, her eyes were pleading and rushing with magic. Then, as she grabbed at the shore with her fingertips, Merlin saw the still, unnatural water ringed tightly around her wrists, _those are her chains_. "Camelot's going to need you," pleading, _she's another person I failed,_ "Soon you'll all be hit with the consequences—"

He felt snapped back, as if out of a spell. "_Consequences_ of Arthur dying?" from his hollow chest came a voice so harshly edged he almost didn't recognize it as his own. Freya froze. "You think those consequences could be worse than the one of how I'm feeling right now?" he felt fire in his own eyes, he saw hers widen, he saw her chains lash her body back, away from the shore. He saw her arms pull and tense, he saw her fight the restraints, and then he saw her eyes burn.

Merlin snapped back again. A glance down at his hand revealed it was outstretched and shaking. He looked back up at Freya and saw she was holding her head above deeper water now. The way she was looking at him, still and strong, made him realize it all at once. _I did that_.

"I'll be here if you need me, Merlin," was all she said.

He nodded, too shocked to speak, and walked away. Her eyes were there, piercing through him, until he past the trees. When he finally couldn't feel them anymore, however, he felt fantastically empty again.

* * *

**We're getting into actual plot now. Anyway, tell me what you think, you guys!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: Merlin's not mine.**

* * *

The Afterfall

"Has it hit you yet?"

"Which part?"

"Arthur, although if you have to ask, I suppose that answers my question."

Gwen didn't say anything for a moment. As she hitched up her skirt to step over a branch, Gwaine caught a glimpse of the feet under her dark red dress—they were bare. Huh.

"I'm not sure," she finally answered. "He came so close to dying so many times. I'm used to expecting it, just not—"

Gwaine couldn't describe how those words made him feel. "Just not used to having those expectations met?"

Again, she didn't answer, but she didn't need to. Gwaine felt his stomach knot at how unfamiliar it all felt. He himself was used to expecting death and then being pleasantly surprised by survival.

Losing Elyan was bad enough.

_Everything here looks so different. Now Arthur's dead and Merlin's in the open. Oh, and there's a dragon behind us._

He didn't know how to feel about being surprised this time.

Guinevere kept turning back to check on Aithusa—Gwaine had to repeat it a few times in his head to get it right—who was stumbling behind them. A few times Gwen stopped to let it catch up to them, kneeling down to stroke its crinkled, whimpering head. Gwaine tried not to gape at the sight in case that seemed disrespectful, but it was proving difficult. There was also more of a life in Gwen's eyes he noticed whenever she looked at it—the same life in them Gwaine saw when she hugged him and told him how happy she was he came back alive.

"How long was it with her?" He asked suddenly.

Gwen turned back to him, looking vaguely disoriented by the question, "…You mean Morgana?"

An echoing moan stretched from the dragon. Gwaine was glad for the excuse to wince—he couldn't stand hearing that name aloud either. "Yes."

Gwen's mouth tensed and she turned back to the dragon, whose wings now looked like they were shivering. It gave Gwaine the chance to stare at it more, to study the crown of its head and the dull, but captivating, bone-colored scales. The curve of its neck and back, however, were the most interesting—Gwaine could see its _no, Gwen called it a her,_ her spine protruding, like a malnourished kid's. "She saved Morgana's life after her second takeover of the city," Gwen finally answered.

He felt a little nonplussed. _But_ I_ saved her life after the second takeover_. "What else did she tell you?" Gwaine asked, as cautiously as he knew how.

But Gwen had gone silent and stopped. Gwaine skid to a halt—his mind was still far too battle-alert for all this silence—and nearly collapsed into her as he followed her gaze. She was staring at the palace stables, which they could see over the short hill now. "I killed Tyr." The focus of Gwaine's vision snapped away and returned within one second as he looked at the queen, at Gwen. "When I was hers, I killed him," she said.

The words, and the image they should have evoked, refused to click in his head.

Gwaine knew Tyr pretty well. Round-faced, polite, and pink cheeked, always sweet and always refusing the liquor Gwaine offered him. "It makes me fall over," Tyr once admitted sheepishly, "And it makes my face even redder. Also, the horses don't like me as much that way."

"Morgana…made you do that?" _Gwen into a murderer, Morgana made Gwen into a murderer, Morgana, I should have killed her, I should have killed her a thousand times over,_ and the ground felt like it was sliding away.

"No," Gwen responded. "_I did that_. She might have enchanted me, but I was still someone. I could still use my own head. I killed him without her orders."

He could still see that face in his mind, so pale and sharp. "That's not how she works…" he found himself saying, "—but that doesn't mean you're responsible, Gwen. It doesn't. She—she makes you do things." He tried to trail himself off, _don't go too far, don't tell her too much_, but it was no use. "She turns you into someone you don't recognize." He couldn't dart his eyes away from Gwen's open stare.

"She won't anymore," her voice sounded strange, hollow, off-balance, and she just kept staring at him. He doubted she missed the way he twitched beneath it, beneath the weight of that idea. Merlin, Arthur, Gwen, Morgana. Gwaine always thought those four couldn't be undone, that if one of them died, all of them would. Two down, there's still time, _I cannot let that happen_.

Arthur.

Morgana.

_Gwen and Merlin._

"No," he whispered. "She won't."

Gwen turned her head away, and her voice came out rough and thin, "Someone still killed Tyr and that someone was me. Morgana doesn't matter now."

"I thought you said the blame could wait."

She released something like a strangled giggle. "How unrealistic of me."

All Gwaine could think to do was nod. "Well, then," he gestured to the stables. "Let's pay our respects."

Gwen blinked held out her hand behind her. The dragon Gwaine forgot was behind them sniffed it, moaned softer this time, and followed the trail Gwen's dress made in the dirt. It made him remember the trail of another dress, one made in the snow...

Morgana looked different the second time she captured Gwaine. Ismere's scenery became her in the most awful way possible. Her voice was sharp and dry as the chill, her skin seemed pale and translucent as the ice, and he might have been invisible for all the attention she paid him. It took the dragon, just as thinly white as Morgana was, to walk in front of Gwaine's eyes to shake the sudden cold from his shoulders. The dragon, all that was left of her.

When they past the stable doors, the looks the horses gave—Aithusa?—were so apprehensive, disturbed, snobbish, and human-like that Gwaine had to try again to swallow his snort. _Maybe someday I'll stop finding all of this so bloody funny_. Gwen turned around and shushed the shivering dragon, whose eyes were flying from horse to horse in something that could have been fascinated terror, _huh. It's almost more human than the horses_.

"Here," Gwen whispered to Aithusa, bending down and walking backwards into a stall far away from the other horses'. When the dragon was faced with the tiny, enclosed corner, she started to shriek, throw back her long neck and beat her wings so aggressively the horses snorted and reared back in their stalls.

"Whoa," Gwaine shouted, bracing himself to jump on her back, wrestle her wings down, anything, when Gwen shot out her arm. Apart from the horses' cacophony, the whole space seemed to halt with that action and Gwaine couldn't believe his ears but _something_ that was not English suddenly curled around the stable. The source, he realized with frozen shock, was Gwen. A different language, older and sharper, fell from her lips, word by word, as she knelt further down to Aithusa who looked smaller and smaller, human and more human, compared to the unearthly sympathy in Gwen's eyes. Even the horses shut up. When the dragon's breathing steadied and her wings dropped around her body, Gwen stopped speaking. Her eyes were focused in a frown as she tore a strip of fabric from her dress, wrapped it gently around Aithusa's neck, and tied the length to the post in the middle of the stable.

Gwaine waited a full ten seconds before asking, "What just happened?"

Gwen, still staring at the red velvet she lashed to the post as though she'd never seen it before, shook her head. "I have no idea."

* * *

The greenery skated past his vision as Merlin walked, fast, like something winged or hollow. He could have already past the castle by ten miles and still not have noticed for all the mind he paid his current surroundings and body and, when another sound entered the scene, he heard the footsteps only with half his being.

"Merlin!" It was a call. _So many people keep saying my name today_, he thought. Looked up. Slowed his walk.

"Leon," he answered back, nodding politely out of habit and not raising his voice. Leon was far enough away from him he might not have even heard Merlin acknowledging that he still knew his name anyway.

"You set it loose."

It was an odd enough combination of words to collect Merlin's attention. He looked up from his feet and into Leon's oncoming face. "Sorry?"

Leon got closer, and Merlin realized he'd never seen him look like that. His forehead was drawn so far down his skin looked sketched with straining red and his eyes looked gold with fury. "Uther's dragon," he said. Merlin stopped mid-step. "You broke its chain," Leon was getting closer now, "…and you were there when we met it in the field. Arthur told me—he told me he didn't remember killing it, he just woke up and it was gone. You were still standing and you said he killed it. You let it go. You let it live."

Merlin wasn't sure he could have said anything even if he cared to. When all he did was nod, Leon was only standing a couple feet away from him, his hand shaking violently while it gripped his sword hilt.

"I almost died that day," he hissed, "I knew three of the families that dragon burned and seven knights who trained with me got slaughtered by that thing and you're the reason why."

"Yes." Merlin figured he at least owed it to Leon to look him in the eye as he said it.

"I know it was you at Camlann," everything in Leon's voice and face was building, heightening his color and volume, rage and terror accepting each other's presence and working as one, "You commanded Morgana's dragon there so you could have killed Uthers's. You killed _him_, and you killed _Morgana_, so what _stopped_ you for so long, Merlin?" he was shouting now, his voice rang in Merlin's head, "_Why_ didn't you save those people they killed?"

"You didn't either."

"If I had your bloody _power_ do you think I _wouldn't_ have?" Leon almost roared. "I've bled for them a thousand times over!"

Merlin turned his gaze toward that hand on the sword. He let his eyes glow gold and watched the hand loosen and drop by the Leon's side while he looked on in wrath and suddenly clear horror. "I couldn't control Kilgarrah," Merlin began, patiently toneless, "—because my father had to die before the Dragonlord gift passed to me. I'm sorry for everyone you lost because of it. I let Kilgarrah out in the first place because I owed him a debt for all the times he helped me defend this kingdom and time was running short because…" _What was happening? Who was attacking the palace that time? Oh, _"—Morgause was closing in on Uther and Arthur and I almost killed Morgana then because Morgause needed her but she took her away instead to cure her of the poison I gave her in a waterskin and then she was gone for a year, she came back angry and I tried, so many times, to kill her, but it was Morgana."

Leon only stared at him. _Oh. He has no idea what I'm talking about. And I haven't spoken that many words since…since…_

"She killed Arthur," Leon's shattered voice finished the thought. "You knew she was planning to kill Arthur. She finally did. You let her win."

"No."

"No?"

"_Mordred_ killed Arthur," Merlin felt the growl tumble from his throat along with a thread of fire. His eyes burned again, and Leon tightened suddenly as if shot through with pain for a brief second. _There. Taste it, just a moment of how that felt._

"Mordred?" Leon choked out as Merlin loosened his grip.

"Arthur wouldn't listen to me and none of you caught him in time. You couldn't kill him," Merlin heard his words thinning into a shivering laugh and Leon's over-wide eyes were a sight for the ages, "You couldn't kill Mordred and he won. Just like Kilgarrah said he would, he killed Arthur, he won, he's dead, they're all dead now…if it's my fault, it's yours. My 'bloody _power?_' It wasn't enough," everything left him in a hiss, coiling around Leon's frame bone by bone, "—and I'd have liked to see you try to save his life."

"Merlin, stop," Leon gasped.

"What can you do to me?"

"Merlin," he began again, gulping hard, as if swallowing every instinct telling him to run, "If you want me to trust you, you'll come back to the palace with me now."

"I did all of this for Arthur. I saved your lives time and time over again for _Arthur_. What if I don't care if you trust me, now?" the sentence had barely left his mouth when a shriek pierced his ears, something hit his head, and black overtook his eyes.

* * *

Leon's mouth dropped open as his breath rushed through clear again, collapsing him to the ground. The white dragon had shot out the forest and collided with Merlin's head, shortly followed by Gwen, Gwaine, Gaius, and Percival. Merlin lying next to him now, flat and soundless.

"How…how did you…?" Leon gaped.

Gwen, who was frowning down at Merlin as if she'd never seen anything stranger in her life, shook her head. "We heard you two while we were on our way back from the stables and called for reinforcements," she said shortly.

"What was he _doing_ to you?" The question came from Percival.

Leon grasped at his shoulder, using the excuse of massaging away the pain to stop himself from shaking. "Magic."

The company went silent for a moment until Gwen shook her head. "You shouldn't have met him alone."

He couldn't look away from the queen, who stood so tall and perfectly still over him while he wondered if he'd ever felt this small in his life.

Gwaine, whose jaw was tense, knelt down by the sorcerer and threw him over his shoulder, shoving Percival away when the bigger man tried to carry Merlin instead. "What do we do now?" he asked in a flat grunt.

Gwen looked up with firm, grim eyes. "I'll lead Aithusa back to the stables. Percival, wait ten minutes after I've left her there to post guards outside. Give them a wide perimeter and tell them to stay there—we cannot let them have idea what they're guarding. Gaius," she turned to the stricken-faced old man next, "Make sure she didn't give Merlin a concussion and then bring him to the Round Table. Something is very wrong."

* * *

**Guys, I am so sorry this took forever. I've had a rough semester and I work a lot and basically have had no time to write this. I made this one extra long, and I hope it makes up for the lost time. Please review and help me decide what to do with the next chapter :D**


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: Merlin's not mine.**

* * *

The Afterfall

It felt like a cold rush of water. _Merlin_, said a sweet whisper he recognized as Freya's_. Merlin, you've got to wake up now_.

_Why_, he groaned, although he couldn't determine whether he said it out loud.

_Because Arthur's death broke something besides your heart._

_If you don't stop this, Freya—_

_Why_, her whisper cut across his threat, shriller and more desperate than before, —_do you think I can suddenly reach you in your head _whenever I want _and _no matterwhere_ you are? _

Merlin, for the first time in the last few horrible days, felt his focus sharpen just a little. _You've never been able to do that before._

_I can extend myself further than the lake now. I don't know how or why, but it started the moment Arthur died_. The moment Arthur died. Everything within Merlin dropped like a stone. As if Freya could feel it, her voice began to plead louder in his ear. _You've got to wake up, Merlin. I understand you don't care, but they do. They matter to you._

_Not as much as they did to him_.

_That wasn't always true._

_I guess I forgot a few things_, was all Merlin answered.

A sensation of being drenched with ice overcame him and he shot up, awake and shivering.

"Lie still," came the brisk sound of only voice he cared to hear. Merlin allowed his muscles to sink into the mattress beneath him. "You've been asleep for a whole day, now."

"I…" Merlin frowned and dug the heel of his hand into his forehead. "What happened, Gaius?" The heel of his hand didn't dissipate the headache at all.

The old man's mouth tightened further. "You were attacking Leon. Aithusa saved the both of you by knocking you unconscious."

"Leon?" _Oh_. _Right_. "I—"

"You were hurting him, Merlin." Nothing could have prepared Merlin for the hushed black underlying Gaius's calm words. "And there…there is nothing I can do to stop you from doing that again," he spoke so slowly every syllable might have cost him his life, "…but I can ask you to try. Please. Try not to ever hurt anyone that way. I couldn't bear it if I lost you the way we lost Morgana."

Merlin blinked and opened his silent mouth. "Gaius…" He couldn't say _You won't_ or _I'm sorry_. _What's left, then? What can I tell him?_

"Promise me, Merlin," Gaius's gaze quivered before Merlin's eyes. "Promise me you'll try."

Try. Merlin thought for a moment—it was a good word. "I'll try." He was dimly surprised to find himself nodding and meaning it.

Gaius said nothing for a moment. "I'll tell Gwen you're awake," he stood slowly. "Come to the Round Table when you're dressed. She needs to speak with all of us."

"All who are left?"

Gaius stopped mid-step, made as if to look back at Merlin, seemed to think better of it, and continued out the door.

Merlin did as he was told without much hesitation or mind, and departed from the empty echo of his old home.

* * *

The only ones seated at the Round Table were Gaius, Gwaine, Leon, Percival, and Gwen. An errant thought passed through Merlin's mind—he hadn't ever held a place at this table while Arthur was alive. Now Gwen, looking clean and even, was calmly gesturing to the chair across from Percival, which appeared to have been pulled out for him. Merlin took it, and the five of them made an even hexagon across the enormous wooden circular slab.

"How are you feeling?" Gwaine was the first to speak, and it took Merlin a few moments to realize the knight was addressing him. Merlin met his eyes and said "Alright," realizing that Gwaine still met his eyes with the same expression he always had, since the day they met. He felt Leon's eyes on him and didn't dare glance that way.

"Merlin," Gwen's voice cascaded across the entire hall, weighty with a power that he didn't expect. He looked at her, truly, and couldn't believe his eyes, "…this council is not about Arthur, and it's not about you," Merlin kept staring, wondering how she could manage not to flinch or cry at speaking his name out loud. She looked healthy. She looked well. "Something happened yesterday and you know I wouldn't ask anything of you right now if it wasn't absolutely urgent." Her expression was serious, but not yet worried. _She wouldn't ask anything of _me_ right now?_

"Of course," he answered blankly. It sounded appropriate.

Gwen frowned at him with narrowed eyes. "All right," she said after a moment, as if trying to calculate whether or not he was truly capable. _How is she holding together? Who is this woman? Why does she need less help than I do?_ "How do the abilities of a dragonlord work?"

…_What? _

"…I'm sorry?" Merlin managed after staring nonplussed for a moment.

"How," Gwen repeated, ignoring the knights shifting in their seats and Gwaine's sudden coughing, "—do the abilities of a _dragonlord_," she lingered over the word as if irritated no one else seemed capable of hearing it out loud, "…work?"

His jaw moved soundlessly up and down for a few moments before a high sound escaped. It might have been a laugh. "Why would you want to know that?"

"Perhaps because I suddenly spoke a dragon's language yesterday while attempting to calm down Aithusa."

Merlin shook his head automatically. "That's not possible."

"I would have assumed so," Gwen almost growled, "—but since my education on the subject is close to nonexistent, I thought I would ask the _dragonlord_ among us for further clarification."

"A dragonlord's power is passed down by magic from father to son once the father dies," Merlin said. "Nothing else unlocks it."

"_Then how is this possible?_" Gwen shouted, and everyone present nearly leapt from their seats. Gwaine's whole body twitched, but his face was grim as if it were familiar, Percival's eyes went round as coins, Gaius's eyebrow defied gravity, and Leon looked dumb and possibly horrified.

Only Merlin remained at the table, gaping and still. Those words weren't spoken in English. Gwen knew the dragon tongue.

"I don't know," he finally said.

"Merlin…" her voice darkened.

"I swear, Gwen, I swear I _don't know_. That should be impossible. I'm the last one left, you shouldn't know how to speak to a—"

"Is that why you unchained it?" Merlin wasn't surprised by the question, but he could only look at Leon for a spare second before turned away. He heard Gaius in his head as the old man's eyes pierced through him from across the table. _Try_.

"No," he answered carefully. "It's why I didn't kill him."

That statement apparently needed a pause to settle. "If you ignore my request one more time, Leon, you will be asked to leave this castle for good," Gwen said to the table before meeting the knight's shocked eyes for one hard moment in which Merlin felt as if he were in a dimension he never lived in before. "Merlin. Tell me again that you know nothing about what is currently happening."

_It's a strange feeling for once to be as blind and lost in magic as _they_ are_. "I know nothing," the words left a surprisingly honest Merlin.

"There must, then, surely be someone who does."

_Freya didn't, but there is_… "I don't think you'll want to meet him," he replied, gingerly as he could.

Gwen spared him no such courtesy. "Why not?"

_Well, he's nearly killed you before_. "I—"

"Merlin," Gaius interrupted suddenly. Everyone's attention swung to him. "She deserves to."

_She does._ Merlin swallowed involuntarily. _I know she does._ _But why do _I_ have to take her to him?_ "Tonight," he finally looked at her. "Will you be ready to leave after dark?"

"We'll all go," Gwaine said.

"No," Merlin shook his head, dodging Gwaine's hurt eyes and Leon's narrowed ones. "Gwen, just you."

Gwen frowned at him for a long time. "How far will we be going?"

"Not far."

She raised her chin, ignoring the stares shooting from her to Merlin and back again. "I'll be ready," she said quietly.

Unsteadily, Merlin nodded. Gwen seemed to take that as her cue to stand and turn, her dismissal echoing through the hall. Merlin didn't spare a moment before leaping to his feet and trying not to sprint from everyone seated at the table. It was as if he could hear Freya's voice whispering in his ear, _Was that so hard?_

* * *

One lace, two lace, through one to the other. Gwen hadn't worn this pair of boots in a year or so, but they seemed appropriate. They were an old pair of Hunith's and Gwen was reminded once again how much she still owed her. After becoming queen, Gwen made Arthur give Merlin time off so the both of them could take a trip to see her. Hunith wouldn't accept any money from Gwen, calling it charity.

"It's not charity, I'm paying you back," she remembered trying to protest. "I'm paying you back for the months you let me stay here—"

"You worked for me all those months," Hunith cut her off with those warmly smiling yet unbending eyes. "There is nothing to pay."

_Knock knock_.

Gwen tied the last lace so tightly she could feel it digging a ring in her leg. "I'm ready," she answered.

The first face she saw as the door swung open was a pale Merlin's, but it widened to reveal Gaius behind him, holding a wrinkled hand to the boy's shoulder. Gwen stared at that hand. _Is it all that's holding Merlin up?_ As if reading her mind, Merlin suddenly straightened his barely quivering back. "Milady," he said, as if it were a common greeting of his to her. _Bloody hell_.

She dismissed herself from replying to Merlin and turned to the old man. "Will you be coming with us, Gaius?"

Gaius's mouth tightened. "I'm afraid not, Gwen. I—have not been on good terms with who you are going to see for many years."

_Well, that doesn't sound ominous at_ all. "I thank you, then, for coming to wish us farewell," she responded.

Merlin turned around without another word and barely a second glance at Gaius, who bowed to Gwen as she followed her old friend the sorcerer.

It was dark outside the castle and Hunith's boots made Gwen's every step feel surer than she suspected she should on this particular journey. When Merlin continued to lead silently, Gwen sped up until she was level with his pace.

"Arthur told me the last dragonlord's name was Balinor and that he died when you and he went to search him out when that other dragon attacked," she said casually.

Merlin's fist, she saw out of the side of her vision, clenched. "He did," he said, voice sounding more substantial and thick than she had heard it since Arthur. "He wasn't the last dragonlord because he had a son who inherited the ability next."

Gwen blinked. "Oh." Hunith's shoes did the trick and held steadily upright.

They walked wordless until Merlin interrupted the quiet this time. "How did you know Aithusa's name? Did she tell it to you?"

"No," Gwen answered, realizing dimly that she had also kept Merlin in some amout of dark. "Morgana introduced her to me a couple of times."

It was Merlin's turn to say "Oh." Silence again. "Where is she now?"

"You'd know more about where Morgana is than I do," Gwen said carelessly, making Merlin flinch, "—but Gwaine and I tied Aithusa up in the stables."

Merlin frowned as if trying to process that image. "When did she even show up in Camelot?"

Gwen shrugged. "While you'd disappeared to find whoever Freya is."

"How—" Merlin sputtered.

"Merlin, if you're honestly going to begrudge me eavesdropping, I don't understand how you expect me to run this bloody kingdom," Gwen cut exhaustedly through his disbelief "—considering how _much_ of its keeping you've done on your own and hidden from me."

For a minute, Merlin looked blank, stricken, hurt, and angry all at once. When he spoke, however, his voice was surprisingly flat. "We're here."

Gwen frowned. Merlin had stopped them right in the center of a wide, open field. She'd been expecting a dark hovel or someplace more clandestine.

"Maybe you'll understand why I lied so much once you know everything," Merlin's toneless, soft voice interrupted her thoughts once more.

Before Gwen could respond, a strange, focused series of harsh, loud gusts seemed to stir the trees edging the clearing. It was more than a wind, and she glanced at Merlin to ask "What's that?" but he was staring up with ease at the sky as though he were expecting this.

All too late, Gwen realized who was coming.

A scream died in her throat as an enormous wing curled menacingly out from behind a cloud.

* * *

**MY SEMESTER'S OVER AFTER THIS WEEK! Guys, I have two ten-pagers and a final due in the next three days and this is all I wanted to write. So I'm fucked. BUT this is good for any of you awesome people with the patience to stick with this story even though I don't think I've updated in two months or longer, college makes you lose track of time and reality. Well, so does fanfiction, I guess...nevermind I can't stand to think any more today. I hope this chapter's enough to make up for lost times, and I'm getting to the parts I'm really excited to write. PLEASE READ AND REVIEW! It would cheer my miserable about-to-fail-college self a great deal.**


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: Merlin's not mine.**

* * *

The Afterfall

"Gaius," one of the knight's voices called out.

The old man's ears were not what they used to be. He turned around, expecting to see Leon, begging for advice about Gwen or ready to accuse him of hiding Merlin, or Gwaine, asking where Merlin was taking Gwen and why on earth he wasn't allowed to go with them (although why such worries should be any of Gaius's concern right now was entirely beyond him). But the knight who called to him was neither—it was Percival.

"I—was hoping I might speak with you," he stuttered out. For a moment, Gaius felt a surge of protective compassion that used to be saved for Merlin. Or Gwen, or Arthur, or, a long time ago, for Morgana.

"Of course," Gaius responded shortly and gestured to the stool by his table, "Sit down. It will be easier on my neck if I don't have to look up at you." The young, giant man blushed and obediently took a seat. "Care for anything to eat? There's some leftover from the dinner I had with Merlin earlier."

"Oh, um, yes. Thank you."

Gaius raised an eyebrow—he hadn't expected the knight to accept it, but he suppose such a large person would never refuse an offer of food. And perhaps Percival was hoping to bide time to work up the courage to speak.

"You've—" he managed after a particularly long swallow, "…known about Merlin the whole time, haven't you?"

The question was more for confirmation than anything else. "I have," Gaius nodded and watched Percival return it, looking troubled but not surprised.

"And he's always protected Arthur, through and through?"

_More than all of your swords put together _was what Gaius almost said. "He has."

"But it hasn't been simple as that, has it?"

Something about that phrasing took Gaius aback for a split moment. _No_ was the immediate answer that sprung to his lips, but the sad, confused acceptance on Percival's face made it an unnecessary response—the overgrown boy of a knight already knew that.

"Gaius, I don't know much about magic," he breathed in slowly, then everything streamed from him in one breath, "—and everything I do know is horrible and from the hands of horrible people like Morgana. Leon said she wasn't always like that, and I know he blames magic for everything she did. I also know that it doesn't take _magic_ for someone to be horrible…it was Cenred's still-living army that killed my family, not her. I've seen Merlin save us and I've seen what he did to Leon…and I—"

"You want to know…" Gaius interrupted him, staring at the table, "—if he can be trusted."

"I don't know if I _want_ to know," Percival's head was down, too, "…but you know I need to."

It took Gaius a long time to answer. In all that time, all he did was lose focus on the supper that Merlin left halfway finished. Halfway.

He supposed Merlin could have eaten nothing at all.

"Three days ago I would have said yes," his throat finally managed. "Yes, you can absolutely trust him. Now, I…" he shook his old head and felt his old hands trembling. Old. _Never felt so old_ and the thought made him inhale deeply until he could straighten his back and meet Percival's eyes again. "What I know for certain is this: alienating Merlin will help none of you. It will only make things worse."

Percival's mouth twisted uncertainly. "Gaius, I—I'm not someone who can easily stand by people who…people whose hands I can't leave my life in."

Something like a huff of laughter filled Gaius's chest. "The bloody round table—hah! It's spoiled you lot rotten…oh, heavens, _Arthur _spoiled you lot rotten."

Percival (unlike Leon or Gwaine, Gaius realized after he reflected on the words he just said and wondered how careless he had gotten as to speak so offensively of the recently dead) just sat there, steady with a stern, heartbroken gaze. "And now that he's gone?" his voice was so quiet. "What do we do, sir?"

Gaius blinked. "I'm no one's 'sir,' Percival, _you_ are," he coughed, shook his head, and grabbed the table to support himself as he finally sat down, "—and it's amusing that you think I know what you should do."

"You know Merlin better than all of us," was the unflinching reply.

"Not so well anymore," Gaius responded, staring off far away. "He's lost." A pause. "Perhaps the best advice I can give to you is to be lost with him."

Percival's frown deepened. "You think the people of this kingdom deserve to be ruled by people like that?"

"No, but that's all that royal subjects ever get regardless," Gaius stood and took Percival's clear dish to the sink. "As for Merlin, you are all going to need him. He's the one person Arthur never deluded with all this talk of golden-age heroism, which makes him the best wartime leader you'll be able to find."

The squeak of scrub on plate was loud enough for a moment to almost drown out Percival's next shocked question from Gaius's losing ears. "Who said anything about wartime?"

Gaius shrugged. "Who needed to?"

* * *

In retrospect, Guinevere realized she should have been expecting this. The image in her head was oddly certain it would be some aged druid leader, possibly battle-scarred and hardened, or a witch of either stunning beauty or wrinkled wisdom, or just someone old before their time, someone young, born running from Uther and the whole of Camelot in general. Of course, it was none of those. It was the dragon. Growing larger and nearer.

Of course it had to be the bloody dragon.

"What do I do?" she frantically screamed over the sound. What she meant by this question, and how Merlin was supposed to respond to it, she had no idea. He kept looking straight ahead at the giant monster, his jaw fixed with something like anger. He stepped forward and the dragon swooped down with a final gust so powerful Gwen swallowed it and felt paralyzed. She strained her neck back to stare up at the thing, panic racing through her every nerve as she realized the _size_ of the thing—tall and old as the mountains it looked, with nothing but a pair of bright yellow eyes to focus on as the moon illuminated every crevice and color in its skin as it opened its jaw—

"I did not expect you to summon me so soon, Emrys," a grand, quaking voice, unlike any voice Guinevere had ever heard in her life, "And why is it you have chosen now to bring her here?"

"You know exactly why, Kilgarrah," Merlin shouted up at the beast and Guinevere realized he was speaking English. The dragon spoke it, too. She had assumed it was the ancient tongue she'd recently acquired, but no. The thing with wings and a name could talk as if it had been schooled in a bloody library. "Something's been happening since he died you didn't warn me about, but you already _know!_"

"Lower your voice, Emrys," the dragon's voice soothed and slid as it lowered its long neck. Gwen could see its ancient face even more clearly now, "…I understand you're still hurt, but we have a guest you have yet to introduce me to," and those round golden eyes that Gwen realized were now very clearly fixed on her.

Not all the propriety of all the queens in the world could keep her from stepping back away from that gaze, but Hunith's shoes managed to keep her from total collapse.

"You know who she is," Merlin said scathingly. Gwen's brief glance at him revealed his cheeks were wet and eyes were red, but with nothing other than anger. Almost rage.

The huge eyes blinked at Merlin before the dragon paused. It then turned to her and—no, Gwen was sure she hadn't mistaken that gesture—genuinely _bowing_ its enormous head. "Queen Guinevere," the voice trembled with power, "It is, indeed, an honor."

Gwen stared dumbly at the head with a flitting urge to reach out her hand and pet it, or shake the dragon's hand in introduction, or something saved for circumstances far more normal than she would likely ever experience again. "Actually, we've," she—to her horror—_squeaked,_ "…hem, ah, we've met before, as a matter of fact." And the word _fact_ was so incredulous in the current context she almost snorted aloud.

Kilgarrah the dragon seemed almost to frown. "My memory is failing me, your majesty, I have seen and met a great many things. Tell me, when was it we met?"

"Well, not met, per say," she hadn't sounded this young in ages, "—you tried to set me on fire."

"My sincerest apologies. I'm afraid we all do things we later regret when suddenly set free."

Gwen nodded because she couldn't think of anything else to say.

The man standing next to her was living proof.

"_She can speak in the dragon tongue_," Merlin's mouth lashed out in that heavy, thick language.

The protruding shelf above the dragon's eyes that Gwen supposed passed as a forehead lifted slightly. "Can she now?" he leaned even closer to her and she had the unmistakable feeling she was being studied.

"_Yes, she can_," Merlin said through a grinding jaw. "_How is that possible?_"

Kilgarrah paused a long time before answering, watching Gwen the entire time. It took every muscle in her frame to keep herself from squirming. "The rules seem to be changing, Emrys," he finally said slowly.

"_It started when Arthur died_." Even in this new tongue, Guinevere didn't miss the way Merlin's voice broke at that name and the way her own body suddenly stilled without effort.

"Yes, it would have," Kilgarrah responded.

"_Can't you just answer me?_" Merlin was crying now, Gwen didn't need to look at him to hear it. "_For once in your life can't you just tell me what's happening without any riddles?_"

Kilgarrah raised his head and finally turned his stony gaze to Merlin. "This is unfamiliar territory to me as well, Emrys. Never before have we lost the Once and Future king so near to the fall of the dragon race."

Since Merlin seemed momentarily rendered unable to speak, Gwen stepped forward, inhaled deeply, and began in English, "What exactly do you mean sir, er, Kilgarrah?"

The dragon's eyes crinkled at her. "Are you afraid I will criticize your grammar in my own tongue, young queen?"

"_No, I am not_," came her automatic response, "—_nor am I afraid to ask for help in whatever language necessary._"

Kilgarrah seemed to bow his head again. "It truly is an honor, Guinevere," hearing her own name in that unearthly voice sent another shiver through her. "I shall do my best to explain what I believe is happening, but I warn you, this may not be pleasant to hear."

Gwen felt her hands ball into fists at her sides. "_If you have been watching us for as long as I think you have_," she began, still shocked at the ease with which the language left her throat, "…_you already know how much we can stand_."

The enormous yellow eyes closed for a moment. "Emrys," his voice suddenly shifted. "What else has inspired you to seek me out?"

Gwen frowned and didn't expect to hear Merlin's faded voice answering, "Freya can speak to me anywhere now, no matter how far from the lake I am."

"Then it is as I suspected," Kilgarrah said. "Young warlock, the fabric is breaking."

"I'm sorry," Gwen hesitated, feeling herself slip language again. "I do not understand."

"Magic, your majesty," the stare the dragon leveled at her was so powerful she couldn't escape it, "—regardless of what you have previously been told, is patterned like a tapestry. Arthur's birth led Uther to try and remove magic's cover from this world. He slaughtered sorcerers and the dragonlords and finally the dragons themselves. Because of this, it was Uther's children, the witch and the prince, who needed to repair the damage he'd done, but they could not do it alone." Those eyes moved to Merlin, who seemed unable to meet them. Gwen watched as her old friend stared shaking at the ground, at his feet, while the dragon loomed overhead.

"Morgana too?" Gwen managed, still gazing at Merlin.

"The witch," and she did not miss the disdain with which the dragon spat out the word, "—and the warlock born of Uther's same treachery, were destined to battle on either side of the Once and Future king." That, apparently, was enough to snap Merlin back to attention.

"I was not born of Uther's treachery," he growled. Gwen felt the same fear, so unfamiliarly associated with Merlin, shoot through her as it did when she caught glimpse of his attack on Leon. Without thinking to she latched her hand around his wrist.

"You were born of your mother, Merlin. Your mother who took in the last dragonlord when Uther forced him to flee," the dragon responded almost softly, as if with patience and love. "You have known all of these pieces for years but have never considered it as a puzzle whole."

"You're telling me I was born with a miserable destiny to fix Uther's _mistake_?" Merlin roared. "You're telling me _Arthur_ and _Morgana_ were two of those mistakes?" His pulse Gwen held in her hand raced with something unnatural—

"No, Emrys," Kilgarrah swelled horrifyingly to his full height "—all of you were born to prolong everything that has always kept this world together!"

Gwen yanked Merlin's ready arm down as she stepped forward. "And what is that?" she yelled, wanting both of them to stop, _stop_, and realizing there was no way for them to, no more than there was for her.

"Magic, your grace," Kilgarrah smoothed. "You are seeing it appear in strange places and people because it is the the fabric of this world and that fabric is coming loose—two of its most central threads have been pulled through."

"What do you mean?" Gwen asked, feeling a slow desperation start to cling at her chest.

"I mean you have been dropped into Albion and no prophecies exist to map the patterns of such a place and age. The witch who wished to extend magic past its natural reach is dead. Her brother, the prince who defended his people by stopping that dangerous spread, was killed at her hands. The warlock, destined to oversee that great battle, chose his side—he defended the Once and Future king and killed the witch. Now Merlin is the last remnant of the Old Religion's foretelling except for myself, and I…"

"You're dying," the low words came from Merlin and Gwen turned to him, so shocked she almost released her hold on him. She moved her eyes frantically back to Kilgarrah and, for the first time, noticed the wing at his side.

"I am, Emrys. And soon."

A frantic halting pace started making its way through Merlin's words, "Freya said—Aithusa's in danger…" The image of the white, crippled child dragon flashed before Gwen's mind.

Kilgarrah nodded once more, looking almost menacing for the first time, "Yes, yes she is."

"Who from?" Gwen asked hesitantly.

"That remains to be seen, although there will be no shortage of enemies seeking to destroy her once the significance of Arthur's death has been made clear across the five kingdoms."

"But _why?_"

Kilgarrah bent his neck back. "Because Uther's pride was what allowed magic to survive in the end—he could never bring himself to kill _me_."

Merlin started again and Gwen could see the spasms shooting through his face and frame. "And you're saying that—that would have ended—"

When he appeared no longer capable of phrasing it aloud, Gwen began again for him, "If you had been killed from the start," she said carefully, working through the deductions as quickly as she could, "…magic wouldn't have survived?"

Kilgarrah said nothing for a moment and the silence was filled with all the gravity of _yes_. "I was the last dragon then, young Guinevere. I am still one of the final anchors tangible magic has to this earth. It will never disappear completely, but had I died at Uther's hand all those years ago? Then yes—magic would have become much more difficult for any human being to harness alone."

The sheer numbers of magical attacks she'd endured growing up in Camelot hit Gwen with full force as she cycled through the images in her mind—goblins, griffins, unkillable soldiers, and finally Morgana in her unbelievable, grand beauty, sitting on a spiked throne. To think they could all have been impossible nearly made her stumble back.

_But_…

"But Merlin," she blurted to Kilgarrah, ignoring the boy turning blankly to face her out the corner of her eye. "You just said he's been foretold to be this great savior warlock of all time, or something of the sort, isn't that right? Regardless of what happened to you, _he_ still would have been born."

Kilgarrah only seemed wryly amused by her objection. "He would have lived past a certain age, yes. But Emrys, you remember the first year you spent in Camelot?" Merlin's eyes grew cold like flint, as though he already knew what the dragon was about to say. "Tell me—how long into that year do you think you could have survived without my help?"

From the way Merlin's jaw hardened, Guinevere gathered this was a rhetorical question. "You're telling me that Aithusa will be the next chance for anyone who wishes to douse out magic forever once you die?" he responded harshly instead.

Kilgarrah tilted his great head. "I am."

"But you're wrong. Aithusa isn't the last remnant of the Old Religion at all. The Diamair's still alive, there's the Druid leaders, a couple score monsters of every kind and hundreds more sorcerers born and practicing in secret all over the world—"

"Merlin," the dragon interrupted, sounding almost kind, "…none of them have stepped into this story, the story of Camelot, for long enough to hold magic down."

Gwen stared at her friend and realized that Merlin no longer looked angry. He looked broken. He looked as if there was no hope left.

"Camelot was built on such power, Emrys," Kilgarrah continued, "—and this kingdom's strength should never have been tampered with. When it was, the whole world shook. It has been happening for decades. Uther only happened to be the final straw."

Merlin nodded vaguely. "And Gwen?" he asked, as if an afterthought. Gwen couldn't have explained it if she tried, but the sudden mention gripped her with a warmth that only came to her right before she felt the need to cry.

Kilgarrah did not need elaboration. "I believe our young queen," here he acknowledged her and she felt unbalanced again, "…was able to tap into the power of such speech so she could help the young warlock protect the last dragon," he paused. "Perhaps the ability of dragontongue was also made as a gift."

Gwen felt her whole being tense. "Why?"

The dragon's eyes narrowed. "Your presence was foretold too, Queen Guinevere. Someone who could be trusted with a throne after a war and loss as heavy as the witch and the king? Such a person could only be found once in an age."

It seemed to be a compliment, but it did not make Gwen feel any lighter. She rather felt like lead, hot out of the hearth and waiting to be cooled into a motionless, horrible weight. Next to her, Merlin stood still, and his wrist had grown cold as ice in her hand.

Kilgarrah's gaze moved between the pair of them on the ground and bowed once more. "It truly has been a pleasure, your majesty. I am only sorry we could not be introduced sooner. I have wanted to meet you for a very long time." He lifted his head, "I am sorry too, Emrys, that you should have to hear this news so shortly after your battle. Please do not hesitate to summon me and never forget you are not alone."

"You say that," Merlin almost whispered—Gwen was shocked to hear him capable of any speech at all, "…as if you think I'll ever fight in wars like these again."

"Oh, but you will, Emrys," Kilgarrah responded, "—and you should."

"_I never asked for this,_" Merlin growled in that other tongue, sounding more like a dragon than the dragon itself. "_None of us did_."

Kilgarrah shook his head. "That is true—you did not. You have centuries' worth of prophecies stacked up against you, all of you. That is not fair, but it cannot be helped. Believe me when I say you would _want_ to fight if you could see the outcome as those seers did. This world…it will be a _very_ different place after all magic you know is gone."

* * *

**So this one's extra long. Sorry about all the exposition guys, I hope it wasn't too boring or dense to read. Review and tell me if it was, I guess! And hope summer's off to a decent start for all y'alls.**


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: Merlin's not mine. Unbetaed.**

* * *

The Afterfall

The night was so thick with clouds it was impossible for Gwaine to make out a single star. This extra darkness also made spying on the guards unknowingly guarding Aithusa very difficult. He sat on one of the higher hills just past the lower town with a view of the stables if he angled to his right. Personal experience sneaking out to the taverns late on a night before Arthur's early-morning training sessions had made Gwaine aware of the absolute incompetence of all Camelot guards and there was no bloody way he trusted them to stay at their posts without supervision.

If he got no sleep tonight that would be fine.

"You all right out here?"

Gwaine had been narrowing his eyes at the idiot soldiers and hadn't heard any footsteps approaching him from the lower town. He turned around, dimly surprised to see Leon climbing the hill.

"Why wouldn't I be?" Gwaine raised an apprehensive eyebrow.

Leon twisted his jaw and shrugged. Gwaine couldn't decide if he looked ridiculously uncomfortable, seething with anger, or both. "Just got sick of pacing around my room, is all. Thought you might want someone out here with you, just in case."

_Take that back, it's definitely both_. "You afraid Merlin's gonna kill Gwen and come back as an angry old man with a shiny evil magic stick?" the jab slid out Gwaine's mouth without any effort on his part to stop it.

Leon twitched, said nothing, and sat down. _Huh_.

The two of them stared out at the hills and forests of Camelot, kept safe by Arthur's decision to move the battle to Camlann. It was easier to stare at them in the dark. They'd be blindingly healthy in the daylight, but the night made them seem blackened, as if Arthur had never made that decision and was still alive because of it.

When the guards didn't do anything interesting for a good ten minutes, Leon broke the silence. "I can't help caring about her," his voice was quiet.

It was Gwaine's turn to shrug. "Neither can I, but I also can't help believing in him."

Leon opened his mouth as if to say more but closed it when nothing came out.

_There used to be nothing important to talk about and we couldn't shut ourselves up. Now there's too much to talk about and we can't say anything,_ Gwaine thought, unprepared for the next thing that flitted across his mind—_I want to go home_.

Before he could even begin guess which home that meant, the rapid tumble of cracking branches and a scream of "_Someone!_ _Please help me!_" jolted through the air and his bones.

* * *

Merlin's legs carried him so fast he seemed to be running or even gliding and Guinevere's chest was on fire trying to keep up. She too, though, felt wrong. Not as though she were hardly there at all but as if she were too present. Every leaf they passed and every peeking star and every blade of grass she crunched under her shoe—it was as if she could remember it all and knew their shapes and night darkened colors so intimately in the brief second before they were gone from her grasp. She wondered if maybe that was magic, what magic is. The inability to stop noticing, stop noticing the earth, stop noticing your spinning heart—

_Where are you going?_ She almost called to Merlin in front of her but something about the black night and its softened echoes made her shut her mouth.

Neither of them had spoken a word.

Not after Kilgarrah's uneven wings left them behind while he limped in the sky.

She couldn't tell which emotions were rolling off of Merlin in waves but she could feel their strength hit her with full force every time she got too close to his back.

"Stop," she said, but Merlin kept walking. "Where are you going?"

He only shook his head and she was left in his wake. Then they reached the lowest dip before the tallest hill. She saw Camelot peer out from the top and all at once she remembered where they were. _Morgana, you brought me here,_ it was one of the hidden entrances into the castle.

They nearly slid down the hill, it was so steep, and landed in front of a drainage grate. A tiny glow lit the dark for a second and the grate crashed open, ringing horribly through the tunnel it guarded. The tunnel was the one thing Gwen could hardly remember about the walk once they made it to the other side, went up through the dungeons, were suddenly in the middle of the empty black throne room. Finally Gwen watched as Merlin slammed the deafening door shut and spun around, head in his white hands, eyes jittering at his feet carrying him too fast across the floor.

"It's my destiny." Those were his first words, edged in that high, unstable laugh, "That's what I told him," Merlin went on, his eyes darting to Gwen's for the tiniest of seconds before zooming again around the world, "—that's one of the last things I said to Arthur. Arthur, he could barely look at me, I'd just shown him what, I was—he was dying, I had to—and he hated it. He asked me why, and I told him what that bloody dragon always said to me, I needed to look after Arthur, 'it's my destiny.' _Hah_—" he stopped spinning and clutched at his knees with his hands, "What does that mean now?"

Gwen could see his eyes blazing into the ground, wider and more desperate than ever before—

"…he's dead, Arthur's dead, I need him, I'm no one without him, he's dead..." every breath grew shallower and shallower until he didn't seem capable of standing anymore. His body trembled with all the power of thunder and all the crumpled smallness of a boy under the whole world's weight.

And Guinevere stared at him.

"No."

Merlin's gleaming wet eyes, their blue shifting from sea gray to icy pale and back again, lifted to Gwen. "What?" he finally breathed.

"No," she said again. "Get up."

He didn't move but to blink.

"I don't care if you were in love with him, Merlin," Gwen said, and it felt as if those words had been in her mouth all along. "He was my husband, and I am not on the ground. Stand."

A dulled shock flicked across Merlin's face, like another shadow, and his jaw opened as if to remind himself to breathe again.

"You said you were nothing without him," Gwen realized her volume was rising and that burning in her chest, it almost hurt but made her feel so solid, "You don't have the right to say that. You haven't earned it. _You're still here_."

That unnatural laugh again, choked with wetness this time, echoed from Merlin again. "You think so, do you?" his eyes bore into her.

"You've saved our lives so many times," she said, nothing could stop the words from coming out now, "—and you've put them in danger over and over again too. I know you have, you've done all of it. Arthur wasn't the only reason you did all of those things. He can't have been."

Merlin hardly blinked. "And when did you become so certain of anything, Guinevere?" Those eyes were mocking her, they had almost nothing behind them, _he never calls me that_.

"No," she said, for the third time, and charged forward to close her shaking fist around the collar of his shirt. "Don't you _dare_ become a ghost on me!" She might have been screaming but all she remembered was how his mouth dropped and no power in her heart ever mattered so much, she tried to lower her voice and felt that effort quiver her every limb, "You can't, Merlin," she rasped. "You can't. Not when I need you."

His eyes were splintered with rage and hurt now. With every blink more of their color fell and the sounds escaping his throat changed the air. "I don't want to be needed anymore," his voice broke.

_Slam._

"Gwen! Merlin!" It was Gwaine who burst in through the heavy door. Every reply Guinevere had ready for Merlin halted on her tongue as she realized Gwaine was sweating as if he had been running for hours trying to find them.

Remembering to let go of Merlin's collar and dragging her mind away from all that had just been said, she straightened her back. "What's wrong?" her hard eyes met Gwaine's.

He looked from Gwen to Merlin, still on the floor, and back again. "A woman," he panted, "—there's a druid woman here. She's hurt, looks like she got away from a whole army, and she said she's here to see Emrys," Gwaine's gaze drifted to Merlin. "I heard Morgana call the old man that," and for a moment he sounded oddly timid, "…so I figured she means you."

That strangled sound came from Merlin again as he nodded, eyes away from both of them. "She means me."

Gwaine blinked. "Then why are we still here? Let's go." Without a word he ran right back out of the throne room.

Guinevere didn't spare Merlin a glance as she strode after Gwaine. "Come on," she called.

It would be a lie to say she didn't let out the tiniest relieved breath when she finally heard footsteps following behind her.

* * *

The woman's name was Maro and she _did_ look as though she'd escaped an army. Dozens of red slivers on her face made it seem as though she'd been running through thorned branches for days and both her arm and stomach were gashed horribly. Her arm bore the worst cut, stretching from her elbow across her forearm to slice the druid tattoo on her hand in half. Gaius was dressing it when they arrived to his chambers, and Percival and Leon stood behind him

"Majesty," she managed upon seeing Gwen. "Emrys," her exhausted eyes flickered with the slightest bit of life as Merlin entered the room.

Merlin, still paler than ever, frowned. "You're from Iseldir's clan."

Maro winced and nodded, although the name meant nothing to Guinevere. Percival and Gwaine showed no recognition either, but a glance at Leon set her aback. Leon's eyes widened and he looked momentarily horrified.

"I was with a hunting party when the soldiers cornered us," she breathed, "—and they threatened to kill one of my pupils with me if we didn't lead them back to Iseldir." Gwen shot her gaze to Leon again, who grew flushed with everything from anger to shame at the second mention.

"Did you see what crests the soldiers wore?" Gwaine asked.

Her mouth twisted. "Yes, and there were four different ones."

Guinevere snapped to Maro's attention. "Say that again," she demanded slowly, hoping desperately she heard wrong.

"I counted," Maro responded. "There were twenty of men, five to each of four different banners—Mercia, Essetir, Alined, and Amata."

Kilgarrah's broken wing flashed unbidden before Gwen's mind.

"What happened when you lead them to your people?" Leon asked in a softer, more hesitant voice than Gwen had heard him use in days.

"Some were startled and killed," Maro looked away from all of them—Gwen couldn't see her face but she sounded more wooden than anyone so injured ever should, "Iseldir managed to stop them and hold them off long enough for the rest of us to run. He's my brother in law. He trusts me and I thought he'd need me, so I hid behind a hill while the attackers spoke to him."

"What did they want?" Gaius asked, almost in a hush.

"Information…I…" a high-pitched noise, and through her hair they could see her crying, "—I think they still have him…" Percival put his hand on her shoulder and she seemed to grab it without thinking. Gwen could see her nails digging into his skin. "My husband, I don't know if he got away either, he's Iseldir's younger brother and he's never had the same power…Iseldir knew I was still there and he told me to run." She made herself inhale before lifting her reddened eyes, which stared straight at Merlin. "Told me to find Emrys," her voice quivered. "To find you."

For a moment, Merlin's mouth opened and no sound left. Gwen could almost see the answers forming on his lips, _Don't, Please, I can't_—but not one of them left.

Gwaine was the next to speak. "What kind of information?"

Maro shook her head furiously. "All I heard them say was about one of Alined's seers letting slip something having to do with a dragon. A white dragon. They wanted to know about a white dragon."

The whole room stilled.

"And…they'll torture him for it?" Leon finally managed.

Maro was shivering now and she couldn't seem to make her eyes focus. Gaius snapped his hand and Gwen led them all from the room without another glance at the Druid woman. She couldn't.

"Do you trust this Iseldir, Merlin?" she asked of the floor the moment the Gaius's chambers were shut.

"Yes," she heard him answer faintly.

Gwaine's voice, "I'm assuming we're trusting her."

"Yes," Gwen replied this time, thinking again of Kilgarrah and those enormous golden eyes.

"…then what do we do?" Percival.

A quiet inhale, then Gwen lifted her head. "All of you get some rest. Be ready to travel discreetly—no armor, no badges—at dawn." They all began to walk away. All except for "Merlin." She finally brought herself to meet his eyes.

"I…" he stammered. Those eyes were flooded again, not with water, but everything else. A fury seeped over Gwen and lashed up through her hand as she shot it at his chest. One shove and his back crashed against the wall, right next to his own home's door, staring at Gwen's face as if he couldn't recognize it. _No,_ she thought_. I wouldn't either. I don't care_.

"You don't want to be needed anymore? And you think _I_ do?" Guinevere hissed. The moon turned through the window and she caught that flash of her own reflection in his eyes. "Arthur is gone. You _built_ this kingdom without his or anyone's permission and so _help_ me you will defend it now."

"Don't make me go," he barely whispered, sending ice down Gwen's spine. "Don't make me see someone else who's been hurt because they believed in me."

Gwen almost stopped, felt something warm in her eyes, then tightened her grip. "Not just you. Four kingdoms, Merlin. That never happens. Four kingdoms all united and want Aithusa dead—they will come straight to our door with armies to spare. You'll help me keep it not because of some bloody dragon-given destiny but out of responsibility. To him. To them. To this kingdom and _yourself_."

The words rang through the hall.

The next sound they heard was a _creeeak_ as Gaius opened the door. "She's asleep," he said quietly, looking between the two of them.

Gwen released Merlin from her hold and he dropped his heels to the floor, still looking down but something, _something_, seemed different. She narrowed her eyes at him, trying to figure out what it was.

"I can't stay here," he suddenly said, meeting Gaius's stare. "I can't stay in the castle tonight. I don't think I can bear it."

His voice was clear as it used to be and _his shoulders, his shoulders don't look so hard, he's standing like he did before_… "My old house in the lower town is empty," Gwen was dimly shocked to hear herself say. "Should be a key under the empty flower pot by the door."

"Thank you," Merlin's eyes flickered to hers for a brief second.

Guinevere waited.

"I'll be here tomorrow," he said, and it didn't sound like a lie.

* * *

**A chapter of Sometimes I Dream About You focuses on Leon and relates to his part in this chapter if you want to read it. Thanks for sticking with me, you guys. I've been wanting to write this chapter since I started this story. Hope you love reading it as much as I loved writing it and hope you review.**


	10. Chapter 10

**CREDIT TO DAROH, my great friend and teacher, for her idea to have Gwen give Merlin her house. :D And thanks to the Merlin Wiki for some of the information I needed for this chapter.**

**Disclaimer: Merlin's not mine. Unbetaed.**

* * *

The Afterfall

The earliest dawn rays didn't stab at his eyelids to lift them—they pried, rather gently, instead. He woke to find himself surrounded by soft tattered blankets on a bed that smelled like soot and home.

Merlin couldn't even remember walking here to Gwen's old house but, although he realized he hadn't set foot in the place for at least a year, it looked exactly the same and reasonably clean. He wondered if Gwen had anyone looking after it, or if she still came here to do so herself, maybe even for the relief of her old chores.

_Chores,_ Merlin thought, _haven't done those in a while. Chores. Duties. Arthur_.

_Gwen. _

_Iseldir_.

It wasn't with a jolt that he sat up in the old bed, it was with a snap of the solid. The present. The current danger.

Merlin couldn't tell if it was _care_ he suddenly felt, but it seemed to be a less painful emotion than he carried yesterday. Maybe this was something like responsibility.

He'd fallen asleep in his clothes the night before and only removed his scarf—the tattered blue. After retying it with a steady pace he walked out the door to a perfect cold morning, just beginning to shine with dew. It was real. For now it felt like enough.

The horses were ready by the stone entrance to the palace, looking strangely bare without the Camelot crests underneath their saddles. Gwen was awake and speaking to Percival while Gwaine tightened his horse's strap. She was fully dressed but Percival and Gwaine were wearing simple attire, no speck of red or gold in sight. Leon, standing on the uppermost step and in full armor, looked so tightly-jawed Merlin could only assume he wasn't coming.

Gwaine stepped away from his horse, turned his head, and was the first to spot him. "Merlin," he nodded. The rest of the company shot their gazes his way.

Merlin kept himself steady and met the nod and all of their eyes. Gwen began walking his way, looking exhausted, so unbending that she was nearly broken. It was a look he was starting to recognize. "Did you sleep well there?" she asked.

He felt the sudden urge to hold her and tell her everything would be all right, but knew that would be a lie he didn't yet believe himself. "I did," he said, "…and thank you for, you know, letting me—"

"You're welcome," she cut him off and he let out a relieved breath. "Really, you can stay there whenever you need to."

The two of them just stood there for a held moment. Fragments of the night before flew through his mind and he wondered how much more they had left to say. "I'll come back," Merlin finally settled on. Gwen raised her eyebrows. "I'll make sure we all come back. I promise."

She frowned, and then nodded. "That's definitely not a lie," she said as if to herself.

Before Merlin could think anything more than _That's a little strange,_ Gwaine's voice interrupted. "You ready?" he asked.

"Yes."

Gwaine gave him a half smile. "Okay. Umm…here," he held out something in his hand. Merlin accepted it—it was a shirt. His own purple shirt, washed and folded. "Gaius stayed up with Maro the whole night," Gwaine continued, "—and he thought you might want to change in the morning since he knew you were staying at Gwen's overnight, so…I found that."

Merlin blinked. "Thank you."

The whinny of Percival's horse as he mounted it broke through the strained conversation. "She gave us a few locations near the site of the attack," he held up a coiled map, his face grim but firm. "We can start there."

Gwaine mounted his horse and Merlin ducked behind his own to switch shirts. Iseldir's sharp, weathered face passed behind his eyes and he realized he hadn't seen the old druid in at least a year. He had also never seen Iseldir attack another living soul. That was how he knew to believe Maro's story.

_Someone hurt because he believed in me_.

Merlin met Gwen's dark eyes once more before climbing onto his horse and following Percival and Gwaine off the cobbled stones and out of the town itself.

* * *

Leon couldn't be sure if he heard a shallow inhale of breath from Gwen standing in front of him, but he forced himself to keep his eyes on the ground. Look anywhere but at her.

When the last echoes of the three horses clopping hooves faded away and they became silent figures bounding over hills in the brightening dawn, Leon spoke. "You didn't want me with them."

Gwen did not move. "No," she answered.

"Why not?"

She shrugged. He didn't have to look at her to know. "I didn't trust you alone with him."

Merlin. It was always Merlin. "And I suppose you would trust _him_ alone with _me?_" Leon couldn't resist asking as the image of those golden eyes bearing down on him seared through his brain.

"I don't actually know." He couldn't believe Gwen's voice, which actually sounded mildly curious, before she turned around and met his unprepared eyes without hesitation. "Gaius is expecting us," she said simply before moving past him.

Leon followed her, staring at her gorgeous shoulders until his vision blurred.

After they discovered Maro in the woods, Gwen had visited both Gwaine and Percival's rooms to ensure they were getting rest before the morning journey. Leon heard her through his door and waited for her to knock, but she left their hall without a word to him. It wasn't difficult to guess why, but he wanted to hear her say it out loud. She was gone by the time he decided to leave his room and ask her, so he went back outside to the hill he and Gwaine kept watch from only an hour before. He stayed all night, staring at the bumbling young guards falling asleep around the stable, imagining the white dragon whimpering peacefully inside.

Peace and sleep. Two things he hadn't experienced in days. He doubted the woman in front of him had either as he nearly tripped over the train of her gown.

A curt Gaius and an awake Maro both looked up as Gwen opened the door. "Have they set off?" the physician asked, a concern in his brow that Leon knew was also all for Merlin.

"They have," Gwen confirmed, walking to Maro's bedside. "How are you feeling?"

The druid smiled tiredly and put her breakfast down on Gaius's end table. "Better, majesty, now that I know your best are looking for him."

_Her best_. Leon couldn't pretend seeing Gwen nod immediately at those words didn't hurt. "If you're not too tired, Maro…" the queen began tentatively, "—I actually have some questions. Is that all right?"

"Of course, my lady."

It caught Leon off-guard to see Gwen do something he hadn't seen her do in years—bite her uncertain lip. "Could you tell us who Iseldir is?" she finally asked.

Maro frowned. "Surely you've heard of him from Emrys?"

"I did not even know he was called 'Emrys' until shockingly recently," Gwen responded flatly.

"Of course Sir Leon could tell you then," Maro replied, gesturing to him.

Every once of self-control his training awarded him couldn't keep him from wincing visibly as both Gwen and Gaius jerked their gazes his way. He hadn't recognized Maro at all, so he'd hoped to avoid this. _No such bloody luck_. "Leon?" Gaius's eyebrow was arched expectantly while Gwen looked extremely confused and angry.

"I…I didn't actually recognize the name," he lied, "I just…suspected."

When Gwen's mouth opened, seemingly in preparation for something like a threat, Maro interjected instead. "We found Leon were after an attack by Cenred near our land," she spoke slowly and clearly, as if aware of the situation she needed to diffuse, "Iseldir was the man who gave Leon water from the Cup of Life to ensure his survival."

He could have kissed her for ending the tale there. "I'm sorry I didn't recognize you," he said.

Maro shook her head. "You were barely conscious, no need to apologize."

_True. The only face I remembered from that night was his_.

"It's the sort of thing he would do," Maro continued, eyes far away.

Gwen turned her head down. _It's as if she can't bear the sight of someone else so lost_ and Leon felt that familiar weight in his chest grow heavier. "Where does Emrys fit into the picture?" she asked carefully.

Maro glanced at her. "You mean the most powerful foretold sorcerer of all ages?" she sounded grimly amused. "Iseldir one of the last druid leaders. He made sure to keep track of Emrys from the moment he was born."

For a jarring, insane moment, Leon set aside all his reservations about sorcery and thought about Merlin as he used to think about Merlin—skinny, fragile, big-eared, over-grinning Merlin. _Most powerful foretold sorcerer of all ages, bloody_ Merlin_?_

Gwen, next to him, seemed only a little less stunned.

Arthur protected and loved Merlin above everything and everyone else. Leon remembered that much, and he'd never been able to understand it. Merlin was always hilarious, loveable, and loyal, but he was insubordinate as they come and never seemed to display an ounce of common sense—only a blind intuition that managed like magic to keep himself alive. Of course that made sense now, although Arthur's affection did not.

_Foretold, powerful, and famous? He's Merlin_. _He's nothing like Iseldir. He's a kid. He might have almost killed me, but he's just a_ kid.

"I'm sorry, I—" Gwen blinked twice and shook her head at the ground, "You've come at a time when…we're just not used to all of this yet, Maro, I…" she trailed off into a horrible stillness that shook Leon to the core.

Maro's eyes widened and her lips pressed firmly together as she reached out and took Gwen's startled hand. "I am so sorry for your loss, Queen Guinevere," her voice suddenly reminded Leon of Iseldir's, capable of channeling all the calm, sincerity, and age of nature into a single syllable. "Your husband was always good man, no matter what he might have done." Gwen blinked back at her, looking small as a child.

Leon felt his stomach turn at the sight of the queen's full eyes. Whatever Arthur might have done. _What did he do?_

* * *

The morning was stunning. Blue-skied sun and black cool shade streaked through the fields and forest in perfect balance. Both tones melted into his skin in a way that was almost enough to make Merlin forget he was on a mission to save a pacifist from torture.

Druids would have it easier if they saved themselves for once.

"So, how well do you know him? Maro's brother in law, I mean."

Merlin glanced to Gwaine, leaning back on his horse as if he were pounds lighter—he was wearing the same clothes he wore on the day Merlin met him. It would have been so easy to imagine the past few years never happened if it weren't for something almost like a shyness coming across in the way Gwaine kept his eyes glued to the road before them as he spoke.

"Not well," Merlin said, "…but I trust him. He always seems to be right about everything." In front of them Percival turned his head just slightly.

Gwaine's mouth turned up at one corner. "Imagine it would be nice to have someone like that around."

Merlin shrugged. "Only if you can bring yourself to listen to them."

Silence, save for the horses clopping hooves. Percival seemed to hang his head before digging in his heels and speeding up his horse.

Gwaine stayed his pace.

"I wouldn't have cared, you know," he said quietly, after a minute passed. Merlin's neck suddenly burned. He darted his eyes sideways for the tiniest pinprick of a moment—Gwaine was staring straight ahead. _We used to face each other_… "I wouldn't have cared for a single second what you can do," Gwaine continued, "—you're still the same man who brought me here when you could have just left me in that bar. You're still the best person I know."

With that he jerked his reigns and his horse trotted past Merlin, who was left gaping at his back.

"Gwaine," Merlin said, so weakly it reached no ears except his own. _Why do you believe in me? Like Lancelot, like Finna, like Freya, like Arthur, even though he couldn't admit it, he trusted me. Iseldir. Why am I all you've got?_

"Whoa," Percival suddenly halted and held up his hand.

Merlin's horse skidded its hooves to a stop. "What's wrong?" Gwaine hissed.

Percival dismounted and crept, silently as possible for a man his size, towards a tree up ahead. "Merlin," he called, voice barely above a hush. "What is this?"

Merlin moved past Gwaine to look over Percival's shoulder. A symbol was carved into the bark, a symbol with three curls forming a triangle.

"It's a triskele," Merlin whispered.

"All druids have that tattooed on them, don't they?" Gwaine stepped forward apprehensively.

Merlin nodded absently, frowning at the symbol and running his hand over the bark once Percival moved out of his way. "It's not clockwise," he muttered.

Percival raised an eybrow. "Say that again?"

"The spirals, they're not facing clockwise, it's…" a bolt of smoke flashed through Merlin's mind and he tore his hand away. "I think Iseldir left this here."

"Is he close?" Gwaine's hand hovered over his sword.

"It's backwards," Merlin continued, "—it means malice. He's warning us not to come."

For a moment, the only thing making any sound was the forest.

Next came the scrape of Percival's sword from his scabbard. "Bugger for him," he said and turned around. "All he did was show us the way."

Gwaine, although still looking stunned, snorted. Merlin felt his jaw hang open. "Didn't know you cared," Gwaine voiced for him.

Percival kept walking without glancing at either of them. "Sorry I don't want to find myself wondering how we ended up in another war."

Somehow, that response made Merlin feel better. After everything, Percival still had all the stoic common sense of a rock.

"How far are we from Maro's guess?" Gwaine asked.

Merlin took the map from his pocket. "Not very. Here's where they were camped, here's where her hunting party got attacked, and we're right—" he stopped and felt his blood race all at once. "Come on," he said, grabbing a sword from his horse's saddlebag.

He heard Gwaine's astonished, slightly angry, voice and footsteps chase after him. "Where are you _going?_"

"The cursed site!" Merlin yelled back. "Where that ghost from the well possessed Elyan, we're too close to it—just hurry up, you two!"

* * *

_Of course he was right_. Gwaine slowed his run at the top of a hill. Percival was right behind him, and the two of them stopped and stared at the waving, threatening, colored ribbons tied to the trees. A different world owned this part of the forest. Merlin kept up his own stride down the hill and through the thick blanket of dying leaves and seemed to belong in the scenery. It's his, Gwaine thought, his world.

"Don't touch anything," Merlin warned as Gwaine and Percival began their unsteady, cautious way down the hill and under the dim druid rainbow. Gwaine tried not to scoff at Merlin. Elyan—a pang ripped through Gwaine at the thought of another dead friend's smile—told the knights all about the possession, eventually. He lived in fear for half a year of his life. Gwaine felt his own hand clench into a fist at the image of Elyan's horrified dark eyes, darting in between reassurances of _I'm fine_. A banished sister, a druid ghost, a nathair from Morgana…

"I hate being here," Gwaine said suddenly. Both Percival and Merlin turned to look at him.

"Why exactly _are_ we here?" Percival asked, a little tentatively, as if the ribbons sucked some of the earlier bravado out of him.

Merlin's eyes twitched around the entire site. "No, we're where we should be—there's a cave a little past this shrine the soldiers would have wanted to take Iseldir, but they couldn't have come through here unscathed while carrying him as prisoner—" he jerked his head to the left and the eye his profile displayed gleamed with gold.

Gwaine took an involuntary step back and gulped. _Not because it's magic but because it's_ Merlin…He realized he had yet to see those eyes—he'd been at Merlin's back during the attack on Leon.

The gold dimmed and there Merlin stood, even and unshaking, surrounded by the fluttering warnings of the dead. Gwaine realized his heart sped up._ Beautiful_.

An outstretched hand and pointed finger, "There," Merlin said.

As if all three of them were one body, they ran. Gwaine could have sworn he saw was crushing leaves dropped with blood beneath his feet.

The cave loomed less than a mile away from the shrine. None of them were prepared to see three bodies on the ground inside.

* * *

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	11. Chapter 11

**GUYS. I'm writing this from LONDON where I just saw Colin. Fucking. Morgan. In the Tempest. At the Globe.**

**Sorry, I still can't believe this happened to me.**

**Anyhow, sorry this took forever! Thanks for sticking with me. Unbetaed.**

* * *

The Afterfall

The world looked gray.

It was a dream—Guinevere recognized that—but as she breathed in the haze through her nose, her mouth and throat felt thick with something wrong. This place was unlike anything she had ever seen before. Every building was rectangular and twice as tall as the castle. There were people, very oddly dressed people, but there were too many of them moving too fast for her to make out a single individual face. Metal of all different colors gleamed too brightly. Guinevere grew up a blacksmith's daughter. She knew that the metal covering those strange, speeding contraptions was not made by human hands. Their wheels ripped through black, painted ground, and the noise, so much noise—

"It looks different, doesn't it?" the voice wrapped casually around her wrist and trailed up her arm, as it always did. Gwen closed her eyes and let out a long breath. Morgana was standing next to her when she opened them.

"Where are we?" Guinevere asked, frowning down at the chaos beneath her and realizing her own feet were planted firmly on a building—silver and rectangular, taller than the palace.

The view out of her peripheral vision revealed a smirk, a sad little smirk, curving Morgana's sharp face. "Look over there," she pointed her finger. "At the lake."

Gwen's eyes widened. The lake was lined with crowds of loud boats and that same gray shroud, but she still recognized it. _That's_…

"You call it Avalon," Morgana continued, as though she'd said nothing shocking. "It has a different name now, although it's escaping me at the moment."

"Morgana," Gwen nearly growled, "_Where are we?_"

Her old friend turned to face her completely. "Exactly where you'll be when you wake up," she whispered, "—but _many_ years and _many_ mistakes later."

Gwen could feel those green eyes blazing at her profile, daring her to turn, daring her to meet them head on. She remained perfectly still as her heart sank at the gathering light,"—You're telling me this is the world without magic."

"You always were a smart girl," Morgana's sad smirk widened.

Without thinking, Gwen lifted her foot and stepped off the building.

She expected to hit the ground and wake, but what she felt instead was the sensation of gliding too easily through the air to truly be falling.

"I had a feeling you would do that," Morgana's voice whistled in the air behind her. Gwen couldn't stop herself from turning to look—her dead enemy's hair streamed through the sky in a glorious mess. She looked as pale and thin as she did on the day she died, but she was flying as if she'd always known how to.

Gwen found Morgana lovely even now, and she hated it.

"You really should see this," the witch's voice lowered the slightest bit. Gwen blinked and made her own eyes focus on the world around the woman in front of her.

"The colors look wrong," Gwen found herself saying as her feet touched the strange, stiff floor.

Morgana's mouth twitched. "They aren't wrong. That's just how they look now. This place is too dense with the new replacement for magic."

Gwen lifted her eyebrows. "What's that?"

"I think they call it technology," Morgana said flatly.

Gwen blinked and tried breathing in through her mouth again. The taste and movement on the oxygen wasn't like home, where it was bright, thin, and cool—here it was thick and tangled, and made her feel confused and exhausted enough almost to wake up from the dream. Almost. Until Morgana spoke again.

"Did you like my present?" her voice was quiet.

A horrible, wrenching shiver twisted through Gwen's body. "Present?"

"I think you know what I mean."

Gwen did, and forced herself to swallow it. "Kilgrarrah said that was just a reaction of the magic, just a way for me to help Merlin—"

"Well, you dear Kilgarrah…" disdain dripped from Morgana's tongue through the name, "—was essentially right about magic seeping into odd corners and the like, but_ I_ was the one to steer a little bit of the power your way once I realized what was happening." Gwen was still letting the knowledge sink into her stomach when Morgana whispered, almost ashamedly, "I knew you'd look after Aithusa for me."

At that, Guinevere couldn't keep her eyes from meeting Morgana's wide ones head on. "You killed Arthur," she said, and the words charred her heart black on their way out of her chest. "You killed your brother, my _husband_, and you left me to take care of your bloody _dragon_."

"Yes," answered Morgana, in a hush that hid her voice almost completely.

Gwen felt her own fingernails bite into her palms. "Get out."

"Gwen, that dragon was the last good part of me—"

"_Get out of my head, Morgana_, I don't want you here!" she stormed closer to those green eyes, she was inches away from her frozen face, "He is gone and _you_ are the one I can still see. What justice is there in that? How _dare_ you come back here after you killed him?"

"Actually, I _didn't _kill him." Morgana's jaw strengthened, she met Gwen's stare without dodging, and something thickened her voice until it rang through the air. "Mordred did. It was Mordred who actually dealt the final blow, and it might interest you to hear about how Merlin knew that was coming for years."

Gwen felt those words slide through her blood in that old familiar way—smooth and black like mandrake poison. "Trying to set me against Merlin now?" she countered, fist shaking. "It won't work again, and not even because I _trust_ him at all. I don't. He's just all you left me with," her voice grew shallow and nearly snapped at the word "left."

Morgana seemed to flinch and took the tiniest step back. "I left you with Gwaine," she finally said. "I left you with Aithusa."

"You didn't kill Gwaine because you couldn't. You were too weak," Gwen spat, "—so don't pretend that was selfless charity. As for Aithusa? I'm your last resort. You're still trying to pull my strings, even from the grave, to protect the only living thing you never betrayed!"

A wounded rage flared in Morgana's eyes. "See it that way if you must, Guinevere, but not before you _look_ _around_. Look! Look at this world, this strange world, this place that will swallow you sooner _if you don't protect her_," with that, Morgana suddenly lashed her flailing hands out at Gwen's shoulders. She grabbed them and spun the queen around to face the dream. Every flaw of the scenery stabbed at Gwen's eyes and the only thing that kept her from seizing uncontrollably was Morgana's hands.

_Wrong, this is all so wrong, Arthur, you should be here…where are you? Where is Merlin?_

"I know you don't want this, not any more than I do," she heard Morgana's unsteady voice a few horrible moments later, "—and you're right. I couldn't bear the thought of Aithusa dead, but it's more than that, Gwen, I swear—I don't want any of you to live here, not yet. Not even Merlin. Not in this lifetime. I don't want my home to disappear before it has to."

Gwen took her eyes away from the dream and looked down at her feet. Flat and gray. The world was flat and gray, and it didn't sound like a bad thing to be. "Why do I always end up believing you?" she asked, feeling so exhausted.

"You don't," Morgana answered freely, letting go of Gwen's shoulders. "You never have. You always questioned me at every turn."

"Is that why you had to enchant me into listening?"

"No, I did that because I missed you."

Gwen turned her head and looked her in the eye. "Congratulations, Morgana. My husband's dead like you wanted him and now you get to take up all my time."

Morgana only shook her head bitterly. "Arthur is the Once and Future King. He'll come back centuries from now and be welcome with open arms. Don't worry about him, he's the lucky one—he gets to sleep in the meantime."

Gwen exhaled, long and slow, before shutting her eyes "Just wake me up."

_Knock knock knock_.

"My lady," a voice called from behind the wood of her door. Everything was fuzzy when Gwen opened her eyes, but at least it was familiar. "Gwen," Gaius—she recognized it—called again.

She groaned and rolled over to check the window—the light had darkened almost completely. She'd come back here after her conversation with Maro and slept through the entire day. "Come in!" she answered back, not caring that she was in her nightgown. It had been a long few days.

Gaius opened the door and wasn't entirely dressed either, as if he too had just woken up. "They're back," he said.

Gwen blinked the exhaustion from her eyes and frowned. "Already? Did they find Iseldir?"

"Yes, and he's badly wounded. Leon and Percival are bringing him in now, but Merlin thought you should see."

Gwen nodded, lifted herself up, and grabbed her robe.

* * *

Seeing him broken and bent on a stretcher like that churned Leon's insides.

"There were two more men in that cave," Percival grunted in a rush as they both heaved the stretcher across the stone courtyard, "—but they were dead. Merlin said the spirits would have charged them with curses on their way out of the shrine for holding a druid hostage like that, and they didn't survive a mile. You should have seen them, it was like they were slashed from the inside out—"

"Not now," Leon said through a tight jaw. He felt sick.

Gwaine's voice called out from behind him on the entryway steps. "Merlin cleared the room and got Maro moved, bring him in!"

_Right. She shouldn't have to see him like this either. _Leon huffed up the first few stairs with his end of the stretcher, looking anywhere but at the druid it carried. He remembered Iseldir as a man who was thin and weather-beaten enough that he should have looked frail, but his strong chin and discerning eyes kept that from ever happening. His chin was bruised black and purple now and his eyes were limply shut.

Leon and Percival made it into the physician's room while Gwaine held open the door and Merlin stood at the table, gaping at the stretcher and looking green as Leon felt. _Well, at least he and I have this much in common._ "Bring him here," said Merlin's shaking jaw as he turned around to drench a cloth in a somehow already filled bucket of water. _Oh. Magic. Right_.

Gaius and Gwen stormed into the room. "How bad is it?" Gaius wasted no time asking while he rolled up his sleeves. Gwen seemed to be using all her energy keeping the horror on her face in check. Leon felt something puling at him to go and hold her.

Merlin shook his desperate head. "I don't know how many broken bones there are…he's breathing, though, he's breathing a little—"

"The cup." When Leon saw every set of eyes in the room shoot to his own, he realized he said those words out loud. He also realized he didn't care. "He saved me once with it. Use it."

Merlin looked stilled into stone while a conflicted fury raged in Gaius's face. "That cup nearly destroyed this entire kingdom. We can't bring back the dead—"

"_He's not dead_," Leon slammed his hand on the table across from Gaius, with Iseldir's crumpled form between them. "He is breathing. He saved me even though he never knew me and was tortured entirely because of us. The cup's his, anyway, we just stole it. We bloody owe this to him."

"I have it." They all spun around—the hushed words came from Merlin. "I'll be right back." He didn't meet a single one of their stares as he ran out the door. For a moment, none of them moved, until Gaius stirred and tended to Iseldir as if a man's life were on the line. Gwen leaned against the wall behind her and sunk to the floor.

It might have been the longest five minutes of all their lives—Leon himself couldn't remember a longer—before Merlin came running back. The cup in his hand was unmistakable. "I'd been keeping it in Morgana's room…" he stuttered, "—since I knew no one ever went back there."

Once again, they all stood mutely staring, and Gaius was once again the first to move. He took the cup from Merlin's hands, shoved it into the water pail, and held it tremblingly up over Iseldir's body. "_Hie paet blaedsian_," he said, in a voice Leon had never heard before that resonated, somehow, deep in his bones…the physician put the cup to the druid's lips, tilted it, and the bruises began to clear.

Leon let out a cold breath and felt suddenly pounds lighter.

"Let him sleep now," Gaius said, through a relieved sigh and in his usual, familiar voice.

Merlin, with his color slowly returning, managed a weak smile. "I'll go tell Maro," he said quietly, then seemed to almost speed from the room once more.

At that, Gwen seemed to spring back to life as she lifted herself from the ground. "Mordred," she called after Merlin, who froze in the doorway. Bewilderment shot through Leon, and both Gwaine and Percival's smiles wiped from their faces. Gaius did not look relieved anymore. "What happened with Mordred?" she asked again.

Merlin finally turned around. He didn't look confused by the question, but Leon couldn't decipher the expression actually on his face. "Something good happened for once, Gwen," he said. "Can't we leave everything else for another day?"

It wasn't quite a plea and it wasn't quite an order. It was just exhausted. Something, another expression Leon didn't understand, tore through Gwen's eyes. "All right," she said. "Hide that cup somewhere harder to reach this time."

* * *

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